Fran Baker

by Miss Roseand the Rakehell

  “I fear I shall have to make my apologies to Dobbs,” he observed. “I made quite certain he was mistaken. But there! You see that I can be in error, after all.”

  “And what,” inquired his lordship as he sat, “can you be in error about?”

  “Being well aware of the hour, I informed Dobbs, when he told me you were calling, that he was of course mistaken,” Jacques explained. As Stratford laughed, he continued on a drawl, “I don’t believe I’ve previously had the privilege of seeing you before noon, Colin. To what do I owe this unprecedented honor?”

  “You know Miss Lawrence leaves today,” Stratford said, stretching out his legs. “I’m set to follow in a day or two. I should like you to come up to Willowley with me.”

  Maret paused in the act of putting his coffee cup to his lips. “Why?” he asked without expression.

  “Oh—because the prospect of being stuck in the country for days on end with my beautiful but boring fiancée and a parcel of her relatives leaves me cold.”

  Fixing his green eyes upon his massive ruby ring, Maret remarked in a weary tone, “I cannot be chasing into the country at the height of the season—even to oblige you, my friends.”

  The viscount bestowed a puzzled frown upon Maret, but said easily enough, “I doubt there will be much of a season with its finest beauty and biggest rakehell out of town. Come, Jacques, we could find a week’s entertainment together—in nearby Norfolk, perhaps.”

  “Selecting your bride is as far as I am able to exert myself,” Maret said without moving his gaze. “I believe the effort of wooing her for you is beyond me.”

  “Don’t come that damned manner of yours with me,” Stratford returned, too softly.

  “I am afraid I must decline your invitation. Other matters press.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes as Stratford scraped back his chair. He stood motionless a moment, then said in a taut voice. “As you wish.”

  He strode for the door. But as he reached for the handle, Maret looked up from his steady contemplation of his ring and said, “Colin, you shall do much better without me.”

  Stratford left without responding. He had stood upon the street slapping his gloves together with a heavy frown. His groom, holding the heads of his lordship’s spirited grays, kept his face immobile, though he wondered what had occurred to erase m’lord’s sunny mood. Jem’s curiosity, when the viscount presently pulled to a stop before Mr. Baldwin’s lodgings in Curzon Street, was even greater.

  His lordship whisked past Baldwin’s manservant before that astonished man could do more than drop open his mouth. Stratford’s irruption upon Baldwin in his bedchamber caused Daniel to cease knotting the muslin about his neck to turn and stare at him in imitation of his servant.

  “Good morning, Daniel,” the viscount said as he came forward.

  His cousin, taken by surprise, greeted him with a lessening of the stiff manner he had maintained toward the viscount since their last falling out. Feeling sure that nothing less than calamity could induce Stratford to be about at this early hour, he inquired anxiously, “What’s wrong, Colin? Is it Grandfather? Is he—”

  “Lord, no. I don’t doubt that he’ll dance on my grave,” he replied with a thin smile. “Nothing is wrong, Daniel. At least, nothing I despair of mending.” He threw down his gloves and hat while watching the rigidity return to Baldwin’s bearing.

  “Then how may I be of service?” he asked with reserve.

  “I’m to go to Willowley in a day or so and would like you to accompany me.”

  “I fail to see what purpose could be served by my coming along for your courtship,” Daniel said, motioning for his guest to be seated.

  “Oh, I well know you don’t approve of this match,” Colin said, continuing to move about in his restless way, “but I had thought we might use this journey to put an end to the rift between us.”

  Baldwin wavered. He wanted nothing more than to be on terms with the cousin he had always, secretly, looked up to. But at the memory of their recent argument, he remained stiff. “I think I’d best not come. My presence could only be interference into your affairs.”

  “For God’s sake, man,” his lordship bit out, “don’t hold my words against me. You know what I am like when angry.”

  A smile suddenly crossed Daniel’s face. “After knowing you all my life, Colin, I must confess that I do.”

  Stratford paused in his pacing, then gave an answering laugh. “Then you’ll forgive me and come?”

  “I suppose I must,” Daniel said in friendly resignation, “for I know your determination when you wish for something.”

  “Good. It shall be deadly dull, I dare say, but there’s an elder sister, I’m told—”

  “You’re not playing matchmaker?”

  “Devil a bit!” Colin denied, not without humor. He proceeded to collect his hat and gloves, then flashed his cousin his most winning smile. “I’ll see you in, say, two day’s time?”

  Daniel nodded his agreement and Stratford left the room as suddenly as he had entered it. His lordship’s groom was gratified to see that m’lord had regained a better frame of mind, a mood which was miraculously maintained through the next few days and even through the day’s journey into Norfolk.

  The cousins had arrived in Adderbury on the Friday, each feeling in good humor with the other. Baldwin had tactfully refrained from criticizing his lordship’s reckless handling of the ribbons, while for his part, Stratford had thoughtfully driven his curricle at an unusually moderate speed.

  If Freddy had been enthusiastic about the viscount’s coach, he was ecstatic when he saw his lordship’s curricle, which he called all the crack and from which he could not take his eyes. He was quite cast down at being sent up to the schoolroom with his brother, but brightened somewhat when his Aunt Rose whispered a hurried promise to bring him down later.

  Rose had spent the majority of hours since the receipt of the viscount’s note in a flurry of preparations for the momentous visit, working with Nell and Mrs. Mosley, their cook, to get ready. Insisting that the future viscountess must not sully her hands, Nell refused to let Helen do anything beyond the lightest dusting with the result that she nearly fainted with panic. Rose, however, shooed Helen into the capable hands of Aunt Liz’s maid. Once everything had been scrubbed, dusted, washed and polished, it only remained for Rose to make a last-minute tour of inspection.

  As she stood in the small drawing room, she vividly pictured a pair of turned-down ebony eyes staring with haughty disdain at the worn drapes, the shiny thin chair coverings, and even at her own olive merino gown which was at least four years out of fashion. An embarrassed warmth crept up her neck. The thought of Stratford’s arrogant appraisal of her home, and the low opinion she was certain he would hold upon seeing the mended linen and threadbare carpets, sent the heated flush up over her cheeks. It was the only sign, as their guests arrived, that Miss Rose Lawrence was not her usual calm self.

  Years of being the mainstay of the Lawrence family, however, had given her considerable control over her emotions and it was with the semblance, at least, of composure that Rose stood to meet Viscount Stratford. She met his scrutiny squarely and did not reveal any of the inner turmoil that overcame her when she saw him again mentally dismiss her as he had done years before.

  His eyes passed over her swiftly as Helen continued making introductions very prettily in her low musical voice. Elizabeth’s maid had dressed her dark curls in a fashionable topknot which was left unadorned. Martha had then suggested that Miss Helen wear a simple cream gown of twilled cambric with azure ribbons circling its high waist. She wisely left all else to her charge’s own natural good looks. The viscount had much admired the results, setting both Mrs. Lawrences firm in the belief that his lordship was contracting a love match.

  Helen drew Stratford’s attention to the final member of her family present, her brother Esmond. His every objection—and these had been numerous—having been overridden by the females of his family, Esmond
was indeed there to meet his future brother-in-law. He noted the set of the viscount’s superfine blue jacket upon his broad shoulders, the mirrored gleam of his tasseled Hessians, the intricate knot of his jauntily tied cravat and dismissed him instantly as one of the sporting set. Esmond sat down wearily, prepared to be bored out of his mind.

  His feelings were echoed precisely by Stratford, who notwithstanding, proceeded to charm the majority of the family with his easy good manners. Griffen was most favorably impressed and began to believe Nell had been, as usual, right to set his lordship’s reputation down to vile tale-bearers who jealously embellished his every youthful peccadillo. He was equally pleased with Mr. Baldwin and was gratified to see Rose speaking quietly with the gentleman, though it was a pity she had worn her cap today.

  The elder Mrs. Lawrence, having drawn on every reserve of her spare strength, sat in the center of the room, much like a queen holding her court, and it was she who dominated the conversation.

  “My dear Lord Stratford, I am sure I need not tell you how pleased and honored we are by your visit to our little home,” she said regally as soon as he was seated. “Though, of course, this is not the manner in which the Lawrences have always lived. No, indeed. I quite remember the gay times we had in London when Mr. Lawrence and I were first married. General Sir Ewan Lawrence is my brother-in-law, you know, but poor George! You know how it is with younger sons.”

  “I am pleased to be here, ma’am,” Stratford said when she paused to take a breath.

  “My dear late husband always used to say, before he met with his fatal accident, that his luck would come about, and I feel quite certain that were Mr. Lawrence here today, he would be telling us that it had, at last!” Susanna rattled on brightly. “But I always knew something wonderful would come about with our little Helen. She is the dearest child, so sweet, so good-natured. She’ll make you a lovely viscountess, mark my words.”

  “Indeed, ma’am, I shall mark them immediately,” the viscount murmured rather dryly.

  “Please, Mama,” Helen interjected softly, a delightful rose caressing her cheeks.

  “It is only the simple truth, love! You are all that this lordship could wish for in a wife.”

  “Mother,” said her eldest son as a purple flush climbed up his neck, “may I remind you that the matter is not yet settled. Lord Stratford has not yet applied to me.”

  “Oh, pooh, Griffen! It’s as good as settled. Is it not, my lord?” she inquired with an arch wave of her hand.

  “I’ve no doubt that you’ve indeed settled it, ma’am,” Stratford said, a sardonic smile playing on his full lips.

  The hands laying folded upon Miss Rose Lawrence’s woolen lap suddenly clenched and the fire of her anger blazed into her eyes. She could scarcely repress her rage over his lordship’s arrogant mockery, her fury over her family’s willing acceptance of his barely concealed insults.

  Stratford was endeavoring not to yawn when he chanced to glance her way. Black eyes met gray and held. His attention was firmly caught by the fierce glare being focused upon him. He looked her up and down. Miss Lawrence sat quietly, her long hands clasped in her lap and her face expressionless, but those overlarge gray eyes were clearly filled with hostility. The viscount found himself wondering what was going on behind the impassive face with the smoldering eyes and how he should discover it.

  He was recalled by Susanna, who inquired sharply if he meant to make a formal announcement immediately. He answered that it was his intention to do so and the conversation proceeded as before. When he rose some few minutes later to take his leave, he discovered that the sister with the angry eyes had slipped from the room. Shrugging off his unaccountable disappointment, he agreed to return later for a private interview with Griffen and followed his cousin outside.

  Baldwin mounted the curricle and Stratford was about to climb in beside him when his name rang out. He turned to see Miss Rose Lawrence standing on the front step with a small boy attached to each of her hands. He looked at the two children, then at the tall young woman between them. A challenge shone clear in her expressive eyes.

  “Lord Stratford, I should like to make you known to my nephews, Master Frederick and Master George Lawrence,” she said directly.

  The two little boys bowed solemnly, each with eyes rounded in awe of the man who had driven the magnificent curricle.

  “How do you do?” asked the viscount, just as seriously, as he extended his hand.

  Freddy shook it gravely, but the younger boy took his aunt’s skirt in his grubby hand and his shyly behind it. With a lift of one black brow, his lordship noted that she seemed neither to mind nor even to notice the damage being done to her gown.

  The elder boy tugged at her gown, too, and Rose bent while he stood on tiptoe to place his lips against her cap. Of a sudden, Roses’s laughter filled the air. Colin’s raised brow was joined by its mate, for it was not a tinkling society titter, but a warm, throaty laugh that was as enchanting as it was infectious.

  “I think, my dears,” she said with a tilt of her linen mobcap, “that you must ask him yourselves.”

  The boys’ brilliant blue eyes widened even further. Freddy’s mouth opened soundlessly.

  “May I perhaps be of some help?” his lordship prompted.

  “I—if you please, sir!—me and George would like to ride in your curricle. It’s a bang-up rig, sir!” Freddy looked for approval to his aunt.

  She nodded her head with such a twinkle in her gray eyes as they came up to meet the viscount’s that Stratford found himself saying, “It could be arranged. Perhaps tomorrow after church, if your mother is agreeable.”

  He did not stay to share in the boys’ ecstasy, and when he and Daniel were finally away in his curricle, he wondered again what it had been about those gray eyes that had caused him to assent to taking two young brats into his most prized vehicle.

  “I must be getting old,” he remarked aloud.

  To which mystifying comment his cousin had no reply.

  Chapter 6

  The few persons who chanced to travel along the high road in the countryside beyond Willowley the following morning were met with the edifying prospect of Lord Stratford bowling along in his curricle seated between two small boys. Jem nearly fell from his perch when his lordship placed the Masters Lawrence on the seat of his vehicle. In fact, he was moved enough to later forcibly remark to the stable boy at Adderbury that he’d never seen nothing like it, no, nor thought to see again!

  Daniel Baldwin had been let down at the front step of Appleton Cottage where he stood with Miss Rose Lawrence watching the curricle pass out of sight. He much admired the modest neatness of her plain attire as he had no liking for the extremes of fashion and was, indeed, much shocked by the practice of the more on-the-go women to damp the petticoats of their sheer gowns. His eyes had more than once wandered to her tall, trim figure during church serves that morning, and they now focused warmly upon her.

  “I wish I might know the secret of your success, Miss Lawrence,” he said with a kind smile as they moved inside.

  “My success?” she repeated quizzically.

  “My family and I have been trying for years to do what took you only a bare moment—to get Stratford to follow one of our suggestions,” he explained in a teasing tone.

  “But I assure you, Mr. Baldwin, I did not ‘get’ his lordship to do anything. This was an arrangement between my nephews and him. Indeed, his behavior toward the boys has been such that I fear I’ve been doing him an injustice, she said frankly.

  As Rose was in the act of seating herself upon the settee in the deserted parlor, she did not see the puzzlement cross Baldwin’s face. “What sort of injustice could you be doing to Stratford?”

  “Oh, well . . . I cannot say I am pleased about this match, Mr. Baldwin. In fact I must confess to having conceived a misliking for it from the moment I first learned of it. But I knew his lordship by repute—”

  “Lord, who does not?” he said on a laugh.
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  She answered him with her own warm laughter. “Yes, but I must now own to having prejudged his lordship. I’m determined not to do so again.”

  “I still long for your secret, Miss Lawrence, for at the risk of destroying my cousin’s good name with you once again, I must tell you that Stratford would never be spending his morning driving children in his curricle solely for their pleasure. He generally obliges only himself and to the devil with all else. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “he does occasionally allow himself to be ruled by one other.”

  “May I ask whom?”

  “Our grandfather, the Earl of Hallbrook. He more or less raised my cousin and he can still bring Colin in line. But Miss Lawrence,” he said, smiling once more, “tell me why you were not at supper with us last night? I did wonder, when we sat down and you had not appeared, if you were perhaps feeling unwell?”

  “No, it was nothing of that nature. I quite often take my supper in the schoolroom with my nephews. I did so last night,” she said a trifle self-consciously.

  In truth, she had not been able to compose herself for another encounter with Stratford last night. She recalled vividly how her pulse had raced yesterday when he stared at her with his brows raised in that odd fashion, and she was grateful when Baldwin turned the conversation to more neutral topics.

  The viscount’s curricle returned some twenty minutes later and they went out to greet it.

  As Stratford lifted Freddy down, the young boy exclaimed, “Auntie, you will never guess! He let me hold the reins a bit, he really did! And he said I had good hands!”

  Baldwin received this pronouncement with all the astonishment it deserved and could only believe his cousin’s action to stem from the fact that the horses were local cattle and not his lordship’s prized grays.