Runthorne grimaced. It was amazing that anybody could eat anything whilst it was so hot, let alone rich cake. He paced across the drawing room carpet to stand next to the open window, hoping for a light breeze. But only the sunshine flooded in, heating the room. In the distance, dark clouds gathered.
“It will rain later,” he said.
“Do you think so, Runthorne? I am sure we could do with a little respite from the heat.” Lady Delphine turned to Mrs Maybourne, sitting beside her on the low sofa. “Indeed, Edina, it is even more unpleasant than the summer we toured Italy. What do you think, Mr Lacey?” Mr Lacey was sitting, hidden as usual behind his newspaper, in the far corner of the room.
He rustled his newspaper and grunted.
“I do believe he never listens to a word I say,” Lady Delphine said in a loud whisper to Mrs Maybourne. She shot her husband an indulgent look. “I am sure he is quite deaf.” She raised her voice. “I said, Mr Lacey, that you are quite deaf.”
“Just so, my dear,” Mr Lacey said, from behind his newspaper.
“What shall I do with him,” Lady Delphine said to the room at large and Runthorne turned away disgusted with her playacting. He had seen too often with what little respect she treated her long-suffering husband to accept her affectionate attitude now.
Charles was leaning against the empty fireplace, his face a study in misery. Runthorne walked towards him, but before he could reach his friend, Charles pushed away from the mantelpiece and trod across the carpet to where Miss Granger sat ostensibly immersed in a book.
Runthorne plucked a nut from the bowl on the table by the window and watched in interest as Charles whispered urgently in the girl’s ear.
At first she appeared to ignore his friend’s urgings but, slowly, Charles seemed to make progress until, at last, he teased a small smile from her.
Runthorne turned away. The expression in her eyes was too intimate for his prying eyes. He silently wished his friend well and cracked the nutshell between his fingers.
The drawing room door swung open and he looked over, hoping to see Elizabeth. Aurelia glided in, closely followed by Mr Compton.
“Here we are, at last” she said. “I do hope we have not kept you waiting for your tea.” She giggled. “Oh, I see we have not.”
“Would you care for some tea?” Mrs Maybourne reached for the tea pot and a cup.
“That would be delightful, Mrs Maybourne, thank you. It is so hot outside and I should not have stayed out so long but Mr Compton found me walking in the grounds and I am afraid we quite forgot the time. He is so entertaining. Perry,” she said, turning to her companion, “do tell everyone that amusing story about your visit to London.”
Runthorne raised his brow at her familiarity and watched with interest as Mr Compton coloured.
“Miss Lacey is too kind,” he said.
“It was so funny,” Aurelia continued, without pausing. “He saw some boys tormenting a dog.” She waved her hand. “Of course that was not the funny part. But would you credit it? He saved the dog, most bravely, although he will not say so. He ran those horrid boys off, with just his cane. I do believe he might have been murdered, but he had no thought for his own safety.”
“Gosh, Miss Lacey, I hate to contradict a lady, but it truly was nothing.”
“Good heavens, Mr Compton,” Runthorne said. “Aurelia makes you sound most courageous. Just like a knight of old, slaying a dragon.”
Aurelia lifted her pert little chin. “Well, I am sure he was.” She turned back to the astonished company. “But, then the dog, instead of being grateful, made the most fearful mess of his carriage.” She gave a gale of laughter. “Oh, I should not laugh, but it sounded so funny.”
There was a moment’s hush.
“What happened to the dog?” Miss Granger’s soft voice broke the silence.
“I kept him,” Mr Compton said, flushing more deeply. “Poor little thing did not know any better.” He shuffled his feet. “He’s a good dog.”
“That is so sweet.” Aurelia patted Mr Compton’s arm.
“Aurelia.” Lady Delphine’s voice was sharp. “Come here, please.”
Aurelia stuck out her lower lip.
“Aurelia, I said come here.”
“Oh very well, I am coming,” she said.
Mr Compton glanced around, a little helplessly.
“Your tea, Mr Compton.” Mrs Maybourne handed him the delicate cup.
Mr Compton murmured his thanks, and sat.
The entertainment over, Runthorne turned away and stood at the open window, hoping that he would see Elizabeth outside.
“My lord, you appear extremely thoughtful.”
Runthorne turned and inclined his head an exact half inch. “Aurelia,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He glanced at Lady Delphine, watching them.
Aurelia laughed her tinkling laugh. “Do I need a reason to speak to my betrothed?” She laid her hand, feather light, on his sleeve.
He considered the pretty face tilted towards him. He wondered how far he could goad her. “Indeed? Yet you call Mr Compton by his given name. You appear to be on comfortable terms with him. I began to doubt that you remembered our betrothal.”
Aurelia raised her finely marked eyebrows. “How can I forget that I am betrothed to one of the most eligible and handsome men in the country,” she breathed, moving closer. Her bosom brushed his arm and she smiled, showing her perfect, sharp little teeth.
He stepped back, but continued to watch her closely. “Nevertheless you appear so enamoured of Mr Compton that I have to wonder how seriously you take our betrothal.”
Again, Aurelia laughed, although the delicate gurgle sounded rather forced. “Oh, dear Runthorne, how can you doubt how much I care for you?” Her voice was low, seductive. It was a trick a lady of her age and breeding should never have known.
“I know exactly how much you care for me.”
Aurelia cocked her head. “Is that why you have been amusing yourself with Elizabeth Hampton so much since we arrived? Would you like me to show some sign of jealousy, Runthorne?” She laughed more naturally this time. “How sweet you are.”
“I have told you before that my friendship with Miss Hampton is no concern of yours, Aurelia.”
“Of course it is not, my lord,” Aurelia said. “We are not bourgeois. I do not expect you to hang on my sleeve, nor do you expect it of me.” She laughed and placed her hand on his. “Come let us be friends. You know we will deal well together once we are married. I have no objections if you wish to explore your relationship with Miss Hampton more deeply.”
He barely believed his ears. Surely, Aurelia could not be suggesting what he thought she was proposing.
Her artificial laugh tinkled again. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of being greeted by that noise over every breakfast for the rest of his life.
“After all,” Aurelia continued, “the conventions that constrain unmarried girls cannot be expected to trouble such an experienced lady.”
He chose not to rise to her bait. “Am I to assume that the latitude you so graciously offer me is also to apply to yourself?” He watched in interest as Aurelia coloured.
“Really, my lord, you cannot expect me to answer that,” she said.
“I see,” he said. He tightened his fingers on hers and she tried to pull them away. “I am sorry to inform you, Aurelia that I am going to be a very jealous husband. I will not countenance any friendships with other men, however innocent they might be.”
Aurelia pulled harder on her hand. “Runthorne you are hurting me.”
“Forgive me, my dear,” he said, kissing her finger tips lightly before releasing her.
She stepped away from him, hesitated a moment then, with a defiant toss of her head, glided towards Mr Compton and sank down next to him.
Runthorne smiled. Now he knew how he was going to persuade Aurelia to break the betrothal and, he rather thought, she would be happier for it.
***
&nb
sp; Elizabeth bit her knuckle in frustration. Mary had not been in her bedroom, nor had she been in the gardens, the parlour or the library.
Charles was equally elusive.
She walked slowly down the hallway. The one place she had not looked was the drawing room. She stopped, facing the door. Unfortunately, she suspected that if Mary and Charles were in the drawing room, so would other people. Most specifically, Lord Runthorne.
She did not think she was ready to face him just yet.
On the other hand, she reasoned, if there were other people present, he would have to be more circumspect in his behaviour.
Admit it, you want to see him.
Elizabeth reached out a hand to open the door.
“Mr Compton, you are so droll.” Miss Lacey’s distinctive laugh tinkled from behind the closed door and Elizabeth’s hand dropped to her side. She might be in two minds about whether she wanted to see Lord Runthorne, but she was very sure she did not want to see Miss Lacey.
Her decision made for her, Elizabeth walked away. She might not be able to speak to Mary and Charles but there was one person she could talk to. In fact, she decided, it was probably beyond time that she spoke to him. And, at this time of day she knew exactly where to find him. Hiding from his guests in his study
Captain Maybourne was not an unsociable man, but his years at sea had left him with a marked preference for his own company. It was, Elizabeth thought, an indication of the depths of his love for Aunt Edina that he had agreed to the house party at all.
Elizabeth smiled as she recalled the expression of horror on his face when Aunt Edina had first broached the idea. But he had done his duty in making his guests welcome so nobody begrudged him his solitude now.
With a destination in mind, Elizabeth walked quickly to Captain Maybourne’s study and rapped sharply on the door. There was no answer. Puzzled, Elizabeth knocked again. Still, there was no answer. She pressed her ear to the door and heard a faint, but distinctive, snore. She smiled and eased open the door to glance inside.
The study was a pleasant, masculine room, full of dark leather armchairs with heavy red drapes at the windows. It smelled of rich leather and the tobacco Captain Maybourne favoured. It was a comforting smell, so different to the barren scent of her father’s study.
Captain Maybourne sat behind his large desk. His chair was tilted back at an alarming angle and his hands were folded over his shirt front. A capacious kerchief covered his face. It fluttered like a bird as he snored. His coat lay, discarded, on the leather sofa by the window.
Elizabeth hesitated, reluctant to disturb him, but unwilling to leave now she had come so far. She cleared her throat softly and Captain Maybourne grunted, the kerchief slipping sideways, as he shifted in his chair.
“Captain Maybourne,” she said, pitching her voice so he would only hear if he was waking naturally.
The captain grunted again then opened one eye. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes, sir, I am sorry to wake you.”
“Nonsense, my dear child,” he said. “I was not sleeping, I was thinking.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Of course, I am sorry, sir.”
Captain Maybourne levered himself out of his chair, which thumped back into position. He pulled on his coat.
“Yes,” he repeated, “I was thinking.” His look dared her to contradict him. “Most specifically,” he continued when Elizabeth kept silent, “I was thinking about you, my dear, and this mess you have become embroiled in.”
“Ah,” she said, taking the chair Captain Maybourne indicated for her. “I must admit, sir that was something I wished to speak to you about as well.”
“Indeed? I understood from your aunt that you were less than willing to consider Captain Fitzalan’s suit.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “I remain of that frame of mind, sir. I cannot and will not marry him.”
The Captain sighed. “My dear child, please do not be so inflexible” he said, “I believe you are making a terrible mistake.”
He sat in the chair next to her and took her hand. “Your aunt tells me that, should news of your compromised position come out, and she assures me that it will, your reputation would be ruined.”
“I am aware of that, sir.”
“Then how can you sit there so calmly and tell me you will not marry a perfectly acceptable gentleman like Captain Fitzalan.” Captain Maybourne shook his head in disbelief.
Elizabeth bit her lip and sighed. “I am sorry, sir, but there are things you do not know.”
“What things?” Captain Maybourne surged to his feet and paced around his desk.
“Elizabeth, Captain Fitzalan is a gentleman of, if not great, at least comfortable means. He is his uncle’s heir and will inherit a nice little property in time which will mean he will be able to keep you in greater style then you can expect at the moment.”
The captain circled his desk and patted Elizabeth’s shoulder. “More than that, he is an extremely brave soldier who, I have been assured by my contacts in London, can hope for a profitable career despite his injuries. I fail to understand what more you could want, my dear.”
“All that you say is true, sir, but I do not love him.”
Captain Maybourne groaned. “My dear young lady, you cannot be so nice. Many couples marry who do not love each other and yet they live happily together.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that, sir. Indeed many have told me that lately. However, you married my aunt for love. Surely you can understand that I want that for myself.”
Captain Maybourne coughed and gazed out of the window. “Our situations are vastly different, Elizabeth,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Your aunt’s reputation was not at risk.”
Elizabeth paused, thinking. Slowly, choosing her words with care, she began to speak. “Captain Maybourne, loving my aunt as you do, would you have married another, to save that lady’s reputation? Would you have broken Aunt Edina’s heart, just because Society told you to marry one who did not and never could, love you?”
The captain turned to face her. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying Elizabeth? Does Captain Fitzalan love someone else?”
“Yes.”
Captain Maybourne deflated. “Well, why the devil did he not say so? Your pardon, my dear, but that has put me quite out of temper.”
“That is quite all right, sir.” Elizabeth smiled at his courtesy, albeit belated. “I am sure, sir, that I can enlighten you. Captain Fitzalan is a worthy man, as you know, but he is also proud and he would not want to be seen as a fortune hunter or to be robbing the schoolroom.”
“Why should he, and why should it matter to me?”
“Captain Fitzalan holds Mary in the highest regard,” Elizabeth said, abandoning all subtlety.
“Mary? Oh, no, no, I will not allow him to marry her.”
“May I ask why not, sir?” Elizabeth watched in interest as conflicting emotions raced across the captain’s face.
He began to pace again, not looking at her. “It would not be right. I promised her father that I would treat her as my own, that she should never want for anything.”
“Yet, you said Captain Fitzalan can expect a profitable career, sir,” Elizabeth said, mildly. “Also that he is a hero and could keep a wife in comfort.”
“Do not parrot my words back at me, girl,” the captain said, although his lips twitched when he said it.
“My apologies, sir.”
“Hmm, well that aside, Mary is dear to me. Her father was not lucky in his career, but I have settled a great deal on her.”
“Perhaps funds beyond what you consider acceptable might be put in trust for their children,” Elizabeth said.
“No, I cannot support a marriage between Mary and Captain Fitzalan, however worthy he is. He is far too old for her. Why, there must be ten years between them.”
“A little less, but that is hardly an impediment.”
“Her father would have wanted her to marry a title, to better herself.
”
“Perhaps he would have wanted her to be happy,” Elizabeth said, softly.
The captain shot her an intense look. “Does she return Captain Fitzalan’s regard?”
“Oh yes, sir. I have no doubt about that. She lights up when she is with him.”
“She is too young.”
“That will be remedied by time.”
“She should have a Season before committing to the first man she fancies.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Of course, that is wise, sir. I am sure they would be willing to wait. Perhaps their betrothal could be announced after her first Season.”
There was a touch of admiration in Captain Maybourne’s glare. “You think yourself very clever, young lady.”
“No, sir,” Elizabeth said. “If I were clever there would have been no need for this conversation. I would have been married seven years ago.”
“Hmm.” The captain leaned back in his chair and crossed his hand over his stomach. “Well, you may tell them that I will allow a betrothal should their attachment be unchanged. But only after Mary has experienced a full Season. Until then they must keep their attachment a secret. Now, run along, my dear, I have a great deal of thinking to do.”
Elizabeth dropped a curtsy and closed the door behind her. She smiled as Captain Maybourne began to snore.
***
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and contemplated the tip of her shoe peeping out from under her skirts. She frowned, not at the dark smudge on her slipper, but because she was becoming extremely concerned. It felt as though she had spent the entire day searching for Mary and Charles.
Perhaps she had, she had certainly missed lunch and now she came to think of it, she had not eaten any breakfast either. Elizabeth sighed.
Slowly she began to walk, wondering what to do. It seemed as though Mary and Charles had disappeared. Oh, they had been seen. A footman had seen Charles in the library then a maid had thought she had seen Mary in the long gallery, whilst Beranger, the butler, had been certain that one or the other had been heading out towards the maze. But no one was ever there when Elizabeth arrived.
Elizabeth bit her lip. She could not go back to Captain Maybourne with her suspicions, if he suspected what she feared he would never countenance a marriage between Charles and Mary. Likewise, she could not confide in Aunt Edina. It was unthinkable that she speak to any of the Laceys, which left, she licked her lips nervously, Lord Runthorne.
Lord Runthorne's Dilemma: A Regency Romance Page 14