Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  “Well,” Sybil said, “at least you have no worries over Lord Hampton approaching you again.”

  Cassandra smiled. “I have not the slightest worry over that, my dear Sybil. That gentleman will view me as no more alluring than the plague.”

  Sybil squinted her eyes, appearing to look out the window over Cassandra’s shoulder. “There is Lord Lockwood, going into Lord Dalton’s house.”

  “Lord Dalton’s house?” Cassandra asked. She’d had no idea that the gentleman with the scar was one of the gentlemen named in the pact.

  “Oh! And there is Lord Hampton, himself, just rode up on a horse!”

  Cassandra had no wish to look and could not quite understand why her eyes insisted on doing so. Nevertheless, her eyes would force her head to turn.

  Lord Hampton leapt off his horse and handed it over to a groom. He took the steps two at a time and disappeared into the house with Lord Lockwood. Three more gentlemen arrived in quick succession, all bounding into the house.

  Whatever Lord Hampton’s temperament might be, Cassandra could not deny that he cut a dashing figure.

  “It would not be too difficult to guess who the unknown gentlemen are,” Sybil said. “Dalton, Lockwood and Hampton are all to do with the pact, those other three must be Ashworth, Cabot and Grayson.”

  “I suppose they conspire to thwart their fathers,” Cassandra said. “They must feel they are hunted stags in the forest, with mamas circling round and ready to fire.”

  “You do not think mamas behave so,” Sybil said.

  “I do,” Cassandra said. “Though I do not have the benefit of my own, I have been careful to observe. What does your own mother say to it?”

  Sybil’s expression took on a slight aspect of worry. “She’s delighted with the pact and has discussed the gentlemen in some detail. I have been clinging to the hope that two of them are already struck from the list—Lockwood and Ashworth. My mama told me last night that my father has recently reminded her that he does not like either of those gentlemen’s fathers. Something to do with a long-ago card game. I am hopeful my father recalls he does not like the rest of their fathers over some other ancient insults.”

  “My aunt approves of the pact very much, and does not seem to dislike anybody’s father,” Cassandra said. “She’s also told me that my own father has had a long connection with Lord Hampton’s grandmother, the dowager, though my aunt does not know if the lady still lives. She hopes I may mention it in conversation.”

  Cassandra felt her cheeks tinge pink. “I failed to mention that it would be unlikely that Lord Hampton and I have any future conversations, much less about any family connections.”

  “Do you recall your father ever speaking of the dowager?”

  “I do not,” Cassandra said, “but my father keeps up a vast correspondence and never talks much about it. He once told me I could read all his letters after he died, and I would find much amusement in them. Though I have begun to wonder if the lady is not the same person that my father has sometimes spoken of—I do not know the details but there was some gentlewoman who helped him out of what he’s termed ‘a scrape’ in his youth. I have always been under the impression that the lady had been a deal older than he at the time.”

  “Goodness, and now you are pressured to pose the connection to Lord Hampton. I see what you say about a mama’s enthusiasm. That is just the sort of maneuvering I worry over,” Sybil said. “When I came to town, I had my heart set on a fellow who would sweep me off my feet, not one who was under contract to secure himself a wife.”

  “We must stay strong and united, Sybil,” Cassandra said. “That is our only way through this muddle.”

  *

  Hampton gazed around Dalton’s library. He’d not been in the house for ages and it was just as disheveled as he remembered it. Opened books lay on every surface, as if Dalton could never decide what he would read, and the dust surrounding them spoke to a lax household.

  Lord Dalton himself, an earl and someday to be Duke of Wentworth, was a tall and muscular man with only a long scar running down his left cheek marring his appearance. He’d got it at the battle of Quatre Bras, a Frenchman coming within range and delivering the blow. His mother claimed it gave him a dangerous and dashing look. Dalton thought that idea was hopeful nonsense—ladies did not flock to damaged gentlemen. On the other hand, that they did not flock to him was a benefit at this particular moment in time.

  Dalton’s butler shuffled in with a tray of glasses and poured out brandy, though it was far too early for it. Considering the servant’s advanced age, Hampton was only thankful he’d managed to set the glasses down without falling over.

  Dalton motioned toward a table with six chairs round it. “To the war room, gentlemen.”

  As they settled themselves, Hampton mused that, as much as he’d thought on it, he still had not devised a plan to counterattack his father’s directive without finding himself on the street.

  Dalton said, “My own opinion is the whole thing hangs on Lockwood. It’s his father that’s got them all riled.”

  “If I could manage His Grace,” Lockwood said, “I’d have already done it. I’ve argued backwards and forwards and he’s resolute on the thing. I think he even wishes me to fail—he said living without funds for a year would cure me of my fondness for gambling.”

  “Why did we even go through this damnable war, if it was not to return home and do what we like?” Ashworth asked.

  “We all know the injustice of it,” Cabot said, “the point of this gathering is to discover what we can do about it.”

  “We are the talk of the town,” Hampton said. “Burke spoke of it at supper last evening as if it were the most usual topic in the world.”

  “Lucky Burke,” Grayson muttered. “I wish my own father belonged to Brook’s. There is no such lunatic talk at that club, it is only at White’s that such bizarre schemes are hatched.”

  “Perhaps we burn White’s to the ground,” Lockwood said hopefully. “Take away their meeting spot.”

  Hampton smiled. Lockwood’s mind always went to the most drastic action possible. “They’ve all gone home to the country,” he said, “and I suppose we cannot stop them communicating by letter without burning down the Royal Mail.”

  “We will not be forced to take rooms in Cheapside, at least,” Dalton said. “I inherited this house from an uncle and my father cannot touch it. If it comes to it, you can all stay here. Though don’t expect good dinners, not much money came with the house.”

  Ashworth looked around and said, “You can sell off some of these books you never finish. That’ll keep us in beef and brandy.”

  This idea cheered the gentlemen no end. They toasted Dalton and drained the brandy already in their hands. Hampton was among those cheered: he had all but resigned himself to living in a garret somewhere. Here, there was a very good wine cellar that would take years to get through.

  “What we need, in the meantime,” Grayson said, “is some bit of new gossip that will knock us out of people’s mouths. The talkers are always eager for the next thing, and to be the first to know it, and then the first to tell it to another.”

  They sat in silence for some moments. Then Lockwood said, “Hampton, were you in jest last evening about Miss Knightsbridge? About her shooting birds?”

  Hampton shook his head. “I was not. She said as much, as well as a penchant for galloping over hill and dale without a groom, in front of both Burke and Miss Danworth. God only knows what else goes on in Surrey.”

  “Well, well,” Dalton said. “That is certainly enough to begin. I’ll send a man to Surrey to find out just that—what else does go on in Surrey in the environs of Miss Knightsbridge? With any luck, we’ll discover some little thing that, combined with shooting birds and riding off without a groom, should set tongues wagging.”

  The rest of the gentlemen at table began to look hopeful. That they would clutch desperately at any idea, Hampton did not doubt. He had begun to doubt the rightness o
f exploiting Miss Knightsbridge’s ill-advised words. He did not like gossip in general and had never been the means of spreading it.

  Though, after all, without knowing him the lady had informed him she did not wish to know him. In fact, she claimed there might be no end of people who did not wish to know him. Further, nobody had forced her to own that she wielded a shotgun.

  He supposed she could be left to her own devices.

  Chapter Four

  Lord and Lady Sedway’s dinner was to be a cozy evening for only thirty guests. Of all the invitations that had piled up on her aunt’s silver tray in the hall, Cassandra felt most comfortable considering this one. All of her childhood, she’d known Lady Sedway as Anne Hamilton. Though Anne was five years older than herself, the lady being a close neighbor meant that the Hamiltons had been often at Trebly Hall.

  When she had been younger, Cassandra had gloried in Anne coming into her bedchamber and advising her on her hair or showing her the latest fashion. Cassandra might not have understood half of what Anne said or cared much for the parts she did understand, but she was very admiring of Anne’s confidence. Anne had been like an elder sister and, though so unlike herself, dearly loved for it.

  Anne was all hairstyles and clothes and whispers about balls and the gentlemen who could be found at them. Cassandra, being raised in a male-dominated house, rather looked upon her older friend as some exotic creature who was mystifyingly privy to the secrets of an unknown world.

  Now, Anne Hamilton was Lady Sedway, having married an earl. She still wrote her old friend and had been delighted to hear that Cassandra would come for her first season. Cassandra had been promised a dinner and Lady Sedway was as good as her word.

  Cassandra supposed her old friend would be surprised to see her appearance after four years’ absence. Back then, it would be unlikely that she’d manage an entire day without soiling her dress from climbing over a fence or ripping her riding habit on a loose nail in the stables. Now, she was to arrive a proper-looking young lady.

  They entered the house and Lady Sedway rushed to greet them. “Dear Cass!” she said, “goodness, look at you. I do not know what I expected, perhaps that you would turn up with mud on your cheek as I was so used to seeing you, but you are positively grown! And Lady Marksworth, how good of you to come. I do not believe I have seen you since that last Christmas at the Viscount’s house the year before I married.”

  Lady Marksworth graciously nodded.

  “Lady Sedway,” Cassandra said, “you cannot imagine how cheered I am to see you.”

  “You must still call me Anne, just as you do in your letters,” Lady Sedway said, laughing. “I cannot be addressed so formally by the girl I used to experiment on with curl papers.”

  As Lady Sedway led them into the drawing room, Cassandra thought her friend had not changed much, only become even more elegant than she had always been.

  The lady’s butler announced them and they went in.

  The drawing room was already peopled with various guests. Cassandra was introduced to Lord Sedway, who she found a friendly sort and surprisingly knowledgeable of her long-standing friendship with his wife.

  She was cheered to see Lord Burke on the other side of the room, talking to Miss Penny Darlington, a pleasant lady she’d met on a call to Mrs. Darlington some weeks ago.

  Cassandra was further cheered to see that none of the gentlemen of the pact were in the room. Now that she’d seen them all go into Lord Dalton’s house, she was certain she could recognize them.

  Behind her, she heard the butler say, “Lord Hampton and Lord Ashworth.”

  Cassandra’s heart sank. Why? Why must two of the pact attend? And worse, why must one of them be Lord Hampton? She dearly wished Sybil to be at her side, but her friend attended a dinner elsewhere. Lady Marksworth did stand next to her, but she suddenly felt very alone.

  Lady Sedway guided the two gentlemen to Cassandra and her aunt. “I do not know if you have been introduced—Lord Hampton, Lord Ashworth, may I present Miss Knightsbridge and Lady Marksworth.”

  The gentlemen bowed. Lord Hampton said, “We met at the Bergrams’ ball, I believe.”

  Cassandra knew that to be the snub it was intended to be. To say he “believed” they had met was to say she had not made much of an impression. She supposed she was meant to be insulted by it, but she was far from it. She would be very grateful to be forgettable, including all she had said, in the lord’s mind.

  Lord Ashworth said, “Miss Knightsbridge.”

  Cassandra thought he said it almost as a question. He had such a quizzical look that she began to wonder if Lord Hampton had seen fit, after all, to repeat her unique views expressed over supper.

  Lady Sedway led the gentlemen away to introduce them to Miss Darlington.

  “Well,” Lady Marksworth said softly, “I see the pact gentlemen have taken their fathers seriously. They will attend everywhere they are invited. I imagine a small dinner such as this would not generally attract their notice.”

  Cassandra did not answer and Lady Marksworth went on.

  “Of course, I believe Lord Hampton is a cousin to Lord Sedway somehow or other so that might account for it. In any case, the circumstances are fortuitous for our hostess; it is often hard to balance a table for a dinner.”

  Cassandra did not particularly concern herself over whether the table was balanced. She only concerned herself with the wish that Lord Hampton be seated far away from her at that table.

  Lady Sedway had left Lord Hampton and Lord Ashworth speaking to Miss Darlington. She glided by Cassandra and whispered in her ear. “I will have Hampton take you in, you may thank me later.”

  Cassandra felt the blood drain from her cheeks and had a great urge to run after her friend and somehow convince her to have things changed. It would be far more convenient to have Lord Hampton take in Miss Darlington.

  She did not do so. She could not do so. Nobody would dare trifle with a lady’s dinner arrangements. Worse, she was all but certain that dear Anne had put careful thought into the matter and viewed herself as doing a great favor for her friend. Lady Sedway could not know that Cassandra and Lord Hampton had got off on the wrong foot. No, that was an understatement. They had got off on the wrong two legs.

  “Did she say Hampton?” Lady Marksworth said softly. “Well done, Lady Sedway.”

  *

  By the time dinner was announced, Cassandra had steeled herself to be taken in by Lord Hampton. Further, she’d decided that it was not very sensible to make an enemy of him, despite her personal opinions. It appeared she was to be encountering him everywhere and so it would be more comfortable to smooth things over in some manner.

  He had taken her in silently, gravely even, and now they sat next to each other. It was becoming apparent that the lord would not initiate a conversation so, just as she had been forced to do at the Bergrams’ ball, she would need to say something.

  “How do you know Lord and Lady Sedway, my lord?” she said. Nothing could be more commonplace and guaranteed not to offend.

  “My father is second cousin to Lord Sedway’s father,” Lord Hampton said. “And you?”

  At least he had followed his answer with a question, which was a deal more than he’d done when they’d danced at the ball. “I have known Lady Sedway since I was a child,” Cassandra said. “Her father’s estate is very nearby my own father’s in Surrey.”

  Lord Hampton nodded, but did not reply. Cassandra supposed that was to be the end of any light conversation between them.

  She said, “My lord, I really must apologize for my remarks at the Bergrams’, both in the ballroom and at supper. They were ill-conceived, to say the least.”

  There. She’d said it. Now, if he were any sort of gentleman at all, he would accept the apology and they would go on as if nothing had ever occurred between them.

  “Ill-conceived? Do you say, then,” Lord Hampton asked, “that you do not ride without a groom or shoot birds?”

  Truly? He wo
uld wish to go on with it? Why did he not simply nod in acknowledgement of her regret? She had no wish to expound on anything she’d said, nor would she outright lie by denying any of it.

  “I say, my lord,” Cassandra said cautiously, “that I regret what I said. Perhaps that may be deemed sufficient?”

  Lord Hampton did finally then nod his assent, though it perturbed Cassandra that he should still be wondering what she did on her own estate. She supposed the idea of shooting off a shotgun was particularly surprising. Other ladies had been known to ride at a gallop through Hyde Park, their grooms falling somewhat behind. They were perhaps looked at askance, but it did not rise to the level of shock. The shooting birds, though. Even her father had said she ought not mention it and her father did not bow to convention very often.

  Much to her relief, Lord Burke on her other side had turned to her, and Miss Penny Darlington had turned to Lord Hampton.

  The dinner went on in such a manner. On her one side, voluble Lord Burke and his war stories, not the least of which was a horrifying tale of his cook refusing to even name a dish, and then when forced, calling it Un cheval que vous avez peut-être vu récemment, otherwise understood to be ‘a horse you may have seen recently.’ It had completely put her off her beef.

  On her other side, a stilted conversation with Lord Hampton. She had tried asking him of the war, but he was not as eager to speak of it as Lord Burke. She had asked him about his county, but it appeared that Derbyshire was an uninteresting sort of place with little to mention. Finally, at a complete loss, she had asked him if he were fond of dogs. That topic, of all others, seemed at least mildly interesting to the lord.

  “I am fond in the usual way,” he said. “My father’s master of the hounds and I have just designed new kennels in the modern style.”

  “My own father’s hounds live better than some people, I think,” Cassandra said. “He’s been very careful to put drains low, keep their beds off the floor and ensure they are warm in winter. He takes great care matching their food to the season.”