Winthrop Trilogy Box Set

by Burnett, May

  As pre-arranged, Jeremy drove towards them in his phaeton, in full view of dozens of his acquaintances, all of whom were watching the spectacle with avid curiosity. Barnaby sat beside him on the high bench. After a few words of greeting and introduction, Barnaby climbed down and handed Abigail up into the vehicle. As Jeremy drove off with her, she saw Barnaby offer a gallant arm to Milla. She did not know Mr. Winthrop very well. How would those two get on?

  “Thank you for agreeing to drive with me,” Lord Barton said to her in a low voice. “My aunt will have explained that I need to be seen courting someone other than Milla. After this little scene, with any luck society will conclude that you are the object of my interest.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, you will find me very willing.” Abigail dipped her head at a dowager who nodded to her from another, less dashing vehicle. “But were you not supposed to be paying court to some other young lady? I did not like to ask your aunt about it, but it would surely be more natural to drive about with her?”

  “That is all over – we would not suit. When I attended a ball last night – ill-advisedly, as it turned out – Miss Rowan made it clear that I was not in her good graces, after that article. Her father offered to change her mind for the price of an immediate engagement and a generous settlement. It seems they are only just outrunning the duns.”

  “Poor girl,” Abigail said. “This was her chance to prove her loyalty, and instead…”

  “Whether she felt mere pique or true anger hardly matters at this point. Her father gave me an ultimatum, threatening to further blacken my name. Would you want to marry into a family like that?”

  “Surely he was only bluffing.” Yet Abigail could not help but worry. Since their arrival in London Milla and she had brought nothing but trouble to the man at her side. At least it did not affect his perfect handling of the spirited horses or the elegance of his dress. He looked like a gentleman in perfect command of circumstances, from the tip of his hat to the gleaming hessians on his well-formed legs.

  “More than one friend has urged me to forestall these rumours by a respectable engagement,” he said now in a pensive voice. “It would certainly help take the wind out of my detractors’ sails.”

  “Is there nobody else for whom you have a partiality, Lord Barton?” Her voice sounded higher than normal. He could not mean what she thought, could he? He knew how she feared physical intimacy. It was true that of late she had sometimes wondered if she should really allow this fear to affect the rest of her life. But she was not ready… would she ever be?

  “I am not in love with any woman,” he said calmly, directing the horses to turn under a stand of oak trees. “But there is no other young lady for whom I have greater respect and liking than for you, Miss Trevelyan. I fully understand why your pride and the injury that was still fresh at the time would not allow you to accept my previous offers. But now the shoe is on the other foot – if you agreed to marry me at this juncture, you would do me a signal favour. I would never cease to be sensible of your generosity, and strive to be a good and loyal husband.”

  “Do I understand correctly,” she found it difficult to speak, and had to swallow convulsively before she could go on, “that you do not have a mere pretend engagement in mind – but a real one, to be followed by an actual wedding?”

  “Of course, Miss Trevelyan. Unless you did not want to go through with it, and found me wanting in some respect … which is always possible – I do wish for everything. The whole rest of your life.”

  She was silent for two long minutes, and he did not press her. Several people waved and seemed inclined to chat, but he did not stop the horses.

  “You know about my past,” she said at last. “The idea of lying with any man is still repugnant to me.”

  “I had not imagined otherwise. But I need an heir – several children, if possible, and you would be a good mother and partner. It is my belief that we can overcome this natural repugnance with joint effort, if you are willing to trust yourself to me. If that is unthinkable, then it would be best to say no – I cannot envisage a marriage without intimacy.”

  “I am tempted,” she said, almost wonderingly. “All that time I had been so certain that marriage was impossible for me, that I would never have children of my own.” That possibility was the main reason why she did not deny him at once. Could it be …? But was she even still fertile?

  “If it is a question of courage, I feel confident that you are equal to anything; and I shall be patient.”

  “I have two conditions,” she said after a little more thought. “I suggest we announce the engagement at once, so as to confound those vicious slanderers who try to make your life difficult, and also for Milla’s sake. She is just as innocent as you are, and she is my friend. I stand by my friends.”

  “I know. What conditions?”

  “I shall consult a specialist to find out if I am even capable of having children, after that accident. If he says not, then I shall find some way to end the engagement before it comes to a marriage.”

  There was a short silence. Surely he would realise that this was in his own best interest – he had just said himself that he had to consider the succession.

  “I understand, though I don’t think you are being fair to yourself. I stipulate that if the verdict is negative, you consult a second opinion.”

  “Very well. The other may shock you.” She kept her eyes firmly on the horses. “It would be unfair to you if we found out after the wedding that I cannot overcome my aversion to the male body.” She smiled at an officer bowing to her, who looked vaguely familiar; someone she had met the other afternoon. “I want you to help me overcome my difficulty before we fix the wedding date.”

  One of the horses threw up its head. Had Lord Barton’s hand on the reins tightened in startled surprise? He steadied the animal the next moment. “Are you suggesting that I seduce you before you’ll go consent to a wedding?”

  “I’m not sure that seduction is the right word,” Abigail said wryly. “It will not be easy for either of us, I warn you. But if it is impossible, then better we know before it is too late.”

  “It won’t be impossible,” he vowed. “If I did not believe it feasible, I would not have proposed. Let me think.”

  They drove for several more minutes. “It is not entirely compatible with my sense of honour,” he said at last. “But I do comprehend why you suggested it. You feel that the circumstances are so unusual that normal rules do not apply?”

  “Exactly.” She was glad he understood that much. “Those strict rules are intended to protect girls from conceiving a child outside marriage. I should know – a single, thoroughly unwilling experience resulted in just that. But for Susan’s stout support and ingenuity I would have ended my life, like so many girls in that desperate situation. I was quite determined upon it at the time. The idea of bearing Lord Fenton’s child was intolerable, and my step-mother would have thrown me out of the house. It would have been the end of the world.”

  “Yet you survived, and are the stronger now,” he said. “You distrust men, and fear giving your body to me or anyone. I understand, but it can be so very different, pleasant even, if you learn to overcome your fear.”

  “But can I? Show me how to enjoy intimate congress, and I’ll set the wedding date for three weeks later.”

  “I accept your challenge, my lady.” He detached his right hand from the reins, and raised her gloved hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Thank you for your trust, Miss Trevelyan. I shall do my best to be worthy of it.”

  What had she done? When she had agreed to Lady Cirrell’s suggestion that Lord Barton should court her, she had not expected anything like that. Yet her heart was beating fast in her breast, and an irrepressible smile was spreading on her face. He was smiling too, she saw, and seemed genuinely happy at her acceptance.

  “I shall put a notice into the Morning Post, if you’ll agree? Are you of age yet? Even if you are, we need to inform your father.”

>   “I am not quite twenty-one. I shall write to him, but who knows where his ship is now? He was supposed to return to England sometime this year. In any case, it is such a brilliant match that nobody will have the slightest objection.”

  If she broke the engagement off, on the other hand, there would be plenty of reproaches and questions. But she would not think of that now. On such a sunny afternoon, she would try to share his optimism.

  “Call me Jeremy, by the way, now that we are engaged. I want to hear my name in your mouth.”

  “Jeremy,” she said shyly. “You know my own name is Abigail. I have never liked it.”

  “Strange, for I think it a perfectly pretty name.”

  “And even if we are engaged, I cannot simply abandon Milla,” she said. “She does not get on well with Susan, you know. It was as much a favour to Susan as to Milla that I accompanied her to Dorset. Milla needed a friend more than Susan did at the time.” Now that Susan was happily married to a doting husband, and preoccupied with her first child, their friendship had inevitably changed; the need for a confidant, for companionship was supplied by Susan’s husband. Milla on the other hand had been like a wild colt, barely aware of just how lonely she had been.

  “I see. I shall consult my aunt how best to help you both. It is too bad that Susan is unable to travel now.”

  “It would not serve. Milla never accepted Susan’s authority, and now outranks her.”

  “Is there any news of Chatteris?” Jeremy asked as they were approaching Milla, who was still with Barnaby, and surrounded by a throng of other people. “Though just now I find it hard to care.”

  “No, and it worries me. We have to keep looking.”

  “At least nobody will find it strange if we talk to each other now, spend time together in walks and drives like this.” He stopped the horses. Abigail jumped down before anyone offered a helping hand – she might not be as athletic as Milla, but she was not yet stiff and old by any means.

  As Jeremy drove off, without his brother, she looked after him. Her expression was probably fatuous – but under the circumstances, that was all to the good. It would make the announcement of their engagement more convincing.

  “Let me escort both of you to your next destination,” Barnaby Winthrop offered, extending his other arm to her. She took it. Her future brother-in-law… well, maybe. If all went well. She needed to find the name of a specialist in female fertility right away. Would the physician be discreet? The last thing they needed was yet another scandal.

  Until her bubble burst, she would try to live in the moment, enjoy herself. For the first time in her life she was engaged, and to one of the most eligible young men in England. Not that she cared – much – for his title and wealth and estates. Jeremy was thoroughly decent, handsome, very close to perfect.

  Oh dear. She had to be careful not to fall in love. It had been bad enough when she was younger, when she had had a secret, unrequited crush on him. Now she was grown-up she saw Jeremy more realistically. It was only natural that he had ignored the little ninny she had been then – shy and chubby and sniffling into her handkerchief much of the time. A young man did not discover a woman’s better qualities until her outward attractions fixed his interest.

  Even now, he was not in love, but then maybe it was not in his nature. Friendship and respect would have to do, from either side. After all that had happened to her, she was no longer so impressionable, so emotional. She would not allow herself to fall in love unless he did so first, and all the obstacles still between them were gone.

  It probably would never happen, but she could still dream… that was one thing Fenton had not deprived her of: longing for happiness, however unlikely.

  “Let’s go back,” she suggested to Milla and Mr. Winthrop. “I think we have offered spectacle enough for one day.”

  Chapter 14

  During the short walk to the hotel Barnaby Winthrop and Milla talked of sailing, a subject dear to Milla’s heart. Apparently Mr. Winthrop had yachting experience, and their conversation was full of nautical terms.

  Should she tell them about her engagement? No, it would be better to let Jeremy break the news to his brother. She would inform Milla once they were private.

  Mr. Winthrop was nearly as handsome as his older brother, but maybe she was biased. She could not easily imagine any other man more attractive than Jeremy.

  As they turned toward the park’s exit, she threw a quick look around. “There is that tall blond man I noticed the last time we walked in the park, following us again,” she said in a low voice when she could get a word in. “Your brother said he was an investigator. He looks dangerous.”

  “No need to worry about him, Miss Trevelyan. Hendrickson is all right,” Barnaby said reassuringly.

  Milla threw a sceptical glance backwards. “And has he found any trace of Chatteris yet?”

  “Not so far, though he has been working most diligently. We are almost sure Chatteris must be using a different name in his normal life. Neither your husband’s former valet nor the last, err, romantic liaison of the late Lord Fenton knew anything about him.”

  “Romantic liaison?” Milla repeated.

  Barnaby bit his lip. “I should not have mentioned that in your presence, Lady Fenton – I beg your pardon. In any case, that was all over before you met him, and romantic was a bit of a euphemism. You should not worry about it.”

  “I know the late Lord Fenton was no saint. And I am certain that he would not leave a single penny to any woman.”

  “No, I suppose not. He would hate that the bulk of his fortune passed to you.”

  “If there is an afterlife, I hope he chokes on the fact.” Milla’s statement drew a shocked look from Mr. Winthrop. “But I do not believe that the dead are in any position to care about money.”

  Abigail tried to catch her eye, unsuccessfully. She really must lecture Milla again on not shocking her interlocutors, particularly new acquaintances.

  “Have you heard from Susan lately, Miss Trevelyan?” Mr. Winthrop was obviously intent on finding a less fraught subject.

  “Last week. She seems happy enough, but though she does not say anything to complain, from some details I worry that her delicate condition is not proceeding quite as smoothly as her first one. That castle of hers is romantic, but hardly the most comfortable environment.”

  “My sister has always been sturdy enough. Never falls sick, even with a cold.”

  Abigail wanted to object that being with child was very different, and completely changed a woman’s body. She remembered just in time that as an unmarried female she was not supposed to know anything about the subject.

  Milla did not comment. Abigail was aware she still was not fond of Susan, though time and distance had somewhat mitigated the jealousy and resentment she had initially felt towards her sister-in-law. Though Abigail’s sympathies were firmly on Susan’s side, her experience of being supplanted by her father’s new wife gave her some understanding of Milla’s predicament. Susan was an angel compared to Mrs. Trevelyan, but having to submit to a stranger as the new mistress in one’s own home was never easy.

  If she married Jeremy, she would have her own household – several, in fact, the London house and four country estates, though maybe – hopefully – one or two of the latter might go to the younger sons. Three residences would be more than enough. Was she equal to being mistress of so many servants and dependents?

  It was no different from a captain being entrusted with a bigger ship. Her friend Susan had barely left the schoolroom when she had shouldered these domestic responsibilities after her mother’s death, and would be willing to advise her by letter if any difficulties arose. How had the Winthrop men gone on since Susan’s marriage? They had probably managed perfectly well. The various housekeepers would be grateful if she did not interfere too much. Yet if she took on the role, she wanted to do it right; she could not bear to be a cypher in Jeremy’s various households.

  “You are quiet, Abigail,”
Milla said as the hotel came into view. “Is anything the matter?”

  “Just thinking of the future. It looks different all of a sudden.”

  Barnaby Winthrop stared at her in instant surmise, and Milla’s brows rose. “Does your ride with Lord Barton have anything to do with that change?”

  “You will hear all about it in due course.” She still felt reluctant to announce her engagement in so many words. That would make it more real, and she was only just getting used to the idea. What had she done? She must have been mad… or maybe she was returning to sanity, after her period of healing. Too early to tell.

  “That sounds promising, if mysterious,” Mr. Winthrop commented. “Here is the Hotel Bonnard, ladies. Your servant.” He sketched an elegant bow and left them.

  “He is very handsome, with that blond hair,” one of the maids at their back commented to the other. “Too bad that he is only a younger son.”

  What could that matter to these servants? Abigail shook her head. Apparently their mistresses and masters were providing entertainment to their staff as well as to the ton, like some penny novelette.

  Arrived in their suite she dismissed the maids and ordered tea with refreshments.

  “Out with it – I can see you are bursting with news,” Milla said.

  “Yes, well, when I agreed to Lady Cirrell’s suggestion that I drive out with Lord Barton and allow the world to think he is courting me, I did not expect him to be so serious about it. He asked me to marry him today – or at least to announce our engagement to the world right away. Whether we do marry is another story.”

  Milla stared at her, her expression unreadable. “You are actually engaged? Then of course you’ll have to marry him. Did you not tell me yourself that it is nearly unforgivable to jilt a man, while a gentleman cannot jilt a lady?”