A Fraudulent Betrothal
Page 20
‘I’d like to welcome you all,’ he began, taking the place of Mr Markham, to that gentleman’s secret relief.
John Markham had no wish to complain, but he still had no more than a hazy idea who Stephen was, or why he was on such terms of intimacy with at least one of his nieces. Marianne, wasn’t it? Or perhaps Clarissa? Neither was he altogether sure which of his nieces Leighton meant to have. Surely he’d been betrothed to Marianne, albeit in secret, but then why had he caught him canoodling with Clarissa in the drawing-room? Or had it been Marianne after all? Damned if he could tell the two of them apart! He could only hope there wouldn’t be a falling out between the two men when Leighton finally did decide. He didn’t want to be party to a duel over the favours of the beautiful twins.
‘No doubt you’re wondering at the announcement of two betrothals rather than the single announcement you might have expected,’ Lord Leighton continued, quite undisturbed that, just like the Markhams themselves, none of the guests had wondered anything of the sort, since they had not been told of the twin betrothals.
‘Captain Starkey,’ – he indicated Stephen, standing straight and bright in his best regimentals – ‘has the honour of winning Miss Meredew’s hand – Miss Marianne Meredew.’
A hiss of conversation echoed around the Markhams’ ballroom and Eleanor regarded her guests with some trepidation. She wouldn’t put it past some of the gossips there to hold herself to blame over the incident when, for once, she was quite innocent of the deception. Indeed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t blame herself also.
‘I,’ – and Richard tenderly took charge of Clarissa’s hand – ‘on the other hand, may be felicitated on my good fortune to win the other Miss Meredew’s love. I’d like you all to meet Miss Clarissa Meredew, shortly to became my Lady Leighton.’ He held up his hand to silence the growing murmurs from the assembled throng.
‘As some of my closest friends could tell you, I had occasion to meet Clarissa some time ago.’ He deliberately didn’t reveal when or where he may have done so, and, since they had no memory of such an event, his friends could hardly have been blamed for feeling as vague about it as he himself. ‘We fell in love immediately, but her guardian deplored the looseness of my lifestyle and thought an immediate betrothal inappropriate. Hence Constance’ – he nodded towards the handsomely dressed woman at Eleanor’s side – ‘has only lately agreed to our becoming engaged.’ He stuck to the truth that far, only telling it in such a way as to cover the deception that had been inflicted upon their friends.
‘Marianne and I have been seen together on more occasions than I can count, but it was no more than a desire to seek a way in which Clarissa and I could be brought together that caused us to meet.’ Not a direct lie perhaps, but certainly a mistruth, designed as it was to lead the gossips off the track. ‘You will have seen,’ he laughed, ‘how quickly Marianne dropped me once her own beloved had recovered from his wounds.’
Since Clarissa had spent every free minute parading Stephen around the Town in the previous two days, this sally was received with the amusement it deserved. The lingering evidence of the young soldier’s wounds was also apparent, and brought him much honour.
‘Stephen and Marianne.’ Leighton lifted his glass to toast them, swiftly followed by all society, encouraged in the ready acceptance of his story by his particular friends. ‘They’ll be married immediately,’ he surprised them all again, ‘since Stephen must return to his regiment post haste now that Bonaparte has slipped his leash on Elba and returned to rally his supporters in France.’ He held up his glass again. ‘Confusion to the French.’
The toast was drunk enthusiastically, for news of Napoleon Bonaparte’s return to the country he’d led for so many years was a particular talking point. The spectre of war was haunting the country once again.
‘Clarissa and I,’ Leighton announced, ‘will marry within the month. Indeed,’ – and he smiled at her – ‘I hardly dare wait that long.’
Copyright
© Natasha Andersen 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
This edition 2011
ISBN 978 0 7090 9462 3 (ebook)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9463 0 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9464 7 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 8763 2 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Natasha Andersen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988