Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed

by Jo Beverley

  “Oh yes,” Lady Sophie was saying. “Quite thirty, I assure you. She has been a widow for three or four years. Her husband was ancient, I believe, but he left her money so perhaps it was worth it.”

  How much money, Jane wanted to ask.

  “But let us not talk of her,” Sophie went on. “Shall we send for shawls? There is a breeze.”

  Jane put aside questions about the widow to consider a new problem. She was not quite sure what was expected of her during this visit. She knew she must first see her father off on his return journey but beyond that she had no guide. Lady Sophie seemed to enjoy more license than Jane had ever imagined possible, and she did not yet have the nerve to emulate her.

  Who was she to ask for advice? Lady Harroving? She did not feel at ease with her. Lord Wraybourne? She had no wish to appear the fool before him. Jane explained a little of her quandary.

  “Of course you must attend your father,” agreed Sophie and dispatched the footman to find out Sir Jeffrey’s plans. “Beyond that you must please yourself. Maria will expect us to find our own entertainment and here in the country there are few rules. It is what makes ruralizing supportable.”

  The footman returned to say that Sir Jeffrey’s carriage was called for and he expected to leave very soon. Jane went to the coach entrance to bid him farewell and found her father in a bleak mood. Travelling did not agree with him.

  “This is a frivolous household,” he said sternly. “The indulgence, the waste! Take care not to be corrupted by this style of life, Jane.” He fixed stern eyes on her gown. “Where had you that gown, Jane?”

  She caught her breath in horror. She suddenly realized there was a very real danger of being pushed in the coach and dragged back to Carne.

  “It is just an old one, Father,” she said hurriedly. “My maid put a little braid on it so I wouldn’t look out of the ordinary. You wouldn’t wish me to look peculiar would you, Father?”

  He shook his head, obviously unsure of what to do. “It is all most strange,” he sighed at last. “This whole business is strange. A simple, upright man of our parts would have done as well, I think.”

  He gave her a brief kiss and entered his coach, still frowning but happy at least to be headed back to his orderly and predictable life.

  It was unfortunate that all Jane could wear for her walk with Sophie was a plain snuff-brown spencer and matching close-bonnet with no trimmings. However, given the recent close escape, Jane was grateful to be still present in The Middlehouse at all. Her father’s words had taken effect, nonetheless, and she determined not to give herself totally to vanity. This resolve soon weakened at the sight of Sophie by the sundial, pacing up and down, causing the golden tassels visible at the ankles of her boots to swirl. She had draped an enormous paisley shawl about her shoulders and wore a dashing high-poke bonnet upon her head.

  “What an age you have been, Jane! I am sure it is very rude of me,” she continued, “but I must say that your clothes are the most dismal I have ever seen.”

  Jane was unoffended. “Are they not. But I have a whole new wardrobe waiting for me in London.”

  “Chosen by whom?” asked Sophie dubiously, creating horrible visions in Jane’s head. She had been anticipating clothes like Sophie’s but that would not be so. What had her mother ordered for her?

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Sophie sympathetically. “Maria and I will fix it, even if we have to order a whole new wardrobe. Your parents must have given Maria carte blanche.”

  “We couldn’t do that,” Jane protested.

  “Of course we can. Maria will never allow you to come out under her aegis looking a dowd.” She linked arms with Jane and led her down to the French knot garden below.

  As they passed through the formal gardens and the wilderness Jane learned a great deal about the life of a rich aristocrat at The Bath School for Young Ladies and was amazed. Sophie, in turn, was horrified to learn something of the life of a rich aristocrat who had been educated in a rigidly formal country house.

  “It will all be different now,” she assured Jane. “To be out! It will be delightful not to have people looking askance at me if I dance or converse with a gentleman. And, of course, the gentlemen will be forced to take me seriously at last. There is nothing worse than to be a schoolgirl.”

  Jane could not quite agree with that but she did share her new friend’s enthusiasm. “It will be pleasant to dance at all, and I am already finding the company of gentlemen agreeable.”

  “Well, it is quite different for you, of course. Because you are engaged to David you can mix with men with a great deal more freedom than a poor, unspoken-for female such as I.” Sophie’s manner made it clear she did not take her restrictions very seriously.

  “So I would be in no danger of encouraging the interest of a young man, even if I were to spend time with him?” Jane asked.

  This was a question which had concerned her. She had no desire to hang on Lord Wraybourne’s sleeve, and yet she feared to be seen as a flirt if she spent time in the company of other gentlemen.

  “No honorable man. And the other sort would be wary of meddling with Lord Wraybourne’s betrothed, I assure you. David is known to be a dangerous man.”

  “He is?” Jane queried in amazement.

  “He has fought dozens of duels,” Sophie said with airy exaggeration. “Of course he always fights with swords and causes only minor wounds so there is never any fuss.”

  “Good gracious,” said Jane, wondering how this information had escaped her mother, who deplored the practice of duelling.

  “Oh yes,” said Sophie happily. “You will find him well able to take care of his own, but you will be quite safe to indulge in discreet flirtation. Almost as if you were already married. I cannot wait to be married myself.”

  Jane was silent, considering this new information, seeing it merely as a new hazard. She would die of shame to be the cause of a duel. But for some reason the vision of Lord Wraybourne, sword in hand, defending her honor, was strangely exciting.

  Sophie was speaking again. “If I were not his sister, I would marry David myself, Jane. He is the dearest man, and you are the most fortunate of women.”

  “We are not very well acquainted,” Jane said, feeling obliged to make some cavil.

  “I always did think that it was a mistake for you to marry with so little knowledge of each other, but now all is right. You will soon learn how to please him.”

  This echoed too closely Jane’s determination to learn to be the woman Lord Wraybourne would most admire, and so she countered with, “And he learn to please me, I suppose.”

  Sophie’s laugh rang out. “Heavens, are you a rare species?” she asked. “I haven’t known a woman not pleased by David in his life.”

  Jane was devastated. Not only was she affected by the man, she was one of hundreds. Perhaps he was not even, as she flattered herself, making a special effort to fix her interest, but acting merely out of habit.

  “If it weren’t for his morals,” Sophie continued, blithely ignorant of the effect of her words, “he would be the worst rake there ever was, and even so . . .”

  At that she did become conscious of what she was saying and of the uncomfortable expression on Jane’s face.

  “Oh look,” said Sophie in a hasty change of subject. “There is Mrs. Danvers’ Chinese bridge.”

  Their admiration of this feature, and Jane’s consideration of the horrifying fact that she was engaged to marry a rake, was interrupted by the arrival of the young gentlemen of the party. Lord Randal let out a hunting cry and raced up the hill.

  “Run you down!” he declared. “Devilish unfair of you to disappear. What are we poor souls to do when the beauties go to ground?”

  “But Randal,” said Sophie sweetly, “we were told you had gone off to kill something.”

  “There were supposed to be hawks in the Oakhill Coppice but we couldn’t find a sight of them.”

  “So you returned to pursue other prey?”


  “Much more rewarding,” he replied with a grin. “To catch two beautiful birds without firing a shot.”

  Lord Wraybourne, ascending at a more leisurely pace, smiled upon Jane in a familiar way that made her heart catch despite what she now knew him to be.

  “You must excuse Lord Randal. He is over-familiar, but it’s permitted because he’s so very decorative.”

  Lord Randal howled his protest at this description. “I won’t have it, David. Pistols at dawn!”

  “Nonsense. You are far too good a shot. But I’ll give you foils this evening before dinner. Marius can judge.”

  “Done. It must be an age since I’ve tried my skill against you. I’ve been learning a few tricks.”

  “You’ll need ’em,” retorted Lord Wraybourne and ignored his friend’s further attempts to argue.

  He offered an arm to Jane, and the stroll continued. Sophie walked behind, in the happy position of having a gentleman on each arm.

  “And what is your opinion of The Middlehouse grounds, Jane?” his lordship asked.

  Jane was feeling a bit confused—by Sophie’s revelations, by his presence, and by the thought that this very evening two young men were going to fight with swords and nobody appeared concerned.

  “Th-they are very . . . elegant,” she stammered.

  “A word chosen with care,” he said with a smile. “Do I gather you do not favor this type of landscape?”

  She glanced up at him and gathered her wits. She had no desire to offend. “Are the grounds of Stenby in this style?”

  “Very diplomatic,” he approved with a grin, “but do not choose your words to please me. As it happens, the park at Stenby has not been ‘improved’ since Tudor times. The few prospects there are have been provided by nature. My father, however, established a herd of deer which you may like.”

  “Oh yes,” she responded, meeting his amused blue eyes only for a moment before looking away in more confusion. One of hundreds, she reminded herself, and concentrated on a pagoda which had appeared from behind some trees. “A pagoda is some kind of temple, is it not? I wonder why it is built in such an extraordinary style.”

  “I do not know, but I do know that they are not, strictly speaking, temples. They are more a monument than a place of worship. There is a fine one at Kew Gardens in London if you wish to continue your study.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jane said, embarrassed. “I am forever asking why and how.”

  “I think that is excellent,” he said amiably. “I suffer from a greedy and insatiable curiosity myself. At the moment, for example, I am curious about lavender water. Can you tell me anything of that?”

  “Lavender water? Do you wish to make some, My Lord?”

  “I do not think so, though I may wish to know how it is made. I would like to know how many people use it. How many men and how many women? Where it is used, on the linen or on the person? Whether people bathe in it. Anything, in fact, about lavender water.”

  Jane eyed him consideringly. “My mother thinks it effective against headaches. But I believe you are funning, Sir, to excuse me for my excessive curiosity.”

  “Not at all,” he protested. “To prove it I will report back to you with the results of my researches. Now, we are nearly back at the house, you see. All that is left to view is the Italian garden.”

  Jane was amazed to turn a corner in the path and confront a marble faun. She knew what it was, for she had received a smattering of classical knowledge in her education; but the illustration in her book had not been quite like this. It was unashamedly and totally naked with a most particular look in its eyes.

  “My goodness,” she said. Then remembering that she was not a country bumpkin, she rallied. “Are the statues here originals, My Lord?”

  “Copies of originals. Do you like them?”

  He was aware that he was teasing, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Jane looked so delicious in her confusion and he enjoyed seeing the way she responded so gallantly to challenges. In lieu of his primary desire, which was to make love to her, he found this game amusing.

  “I suppose they are educational,” she said with a tolerable degree of composure.

  She carefully studied each group, and he was proud to see that no blush betrayed embarrassment. He was still ignorant of the masking effect of her creamy skin. Jane, by contrast, felt as if her face was burning as she maintained her insouciance.

  “If clothed,” she remarked of one goddess, “that woman would appear fat.”

  “Indeed,” he responded. “Imagine her in very high-waisted silk. She would rival the Princess of Wales.”

  Jane was betrayed into a giggle. “Is she truly so large? But it only goes to show that in former times the princess would have been elevated to goddess.”

  “In fact, she would have fitted in excellently on Mount Olympus. The ancient gods had just such an earthy lust for life as Caroline shows.”

  The more erotic groupings received no comment from her, only a pensive scrutiny. Lord Wraybourne thought she showed admirable composure. Actually, Jane was bewildered and could not imagine what the statues were supposed to be doing. Whatever it was, it looked most uncomfortable. Meanwhile, an urchin playing with a fish met with her condemnation.

  “I cannot like that at all. He is not catching the fish to eat but to torment it. The head gardener’s boy at the Abbey is just such a one.”

  He wondered what she would say of the fountain made by two little boys urinating.

  After a moment’s consideration, she merely remarked, “I suppose we should be grateful it is not a drinking fountain.” Jane was, after all, country bred and had not been totally shielded from all the realities of life.

  Lord Wraybourne laughed softly, well pleased with his betrothed. He had not regretted his impulsive offer for Jane. He was sure she was adequate to be his bride, but he had wondered occasionally, in the weeks between the betrothal and this visit, whether he might ultimately find her boring. Now, he did not think that likely. For her part, Jane was delighted to find she could speak her mind without fear of censure for the first time in her life.

  “I’m grateful my father did not see this garden before he left,” she said. “He would doubtless have wanted to take me straight back to Carne.”

  Lord Wraybourne looked down at her. “It is in my power to prevent that, I believe. You needn’t concern yourself over such matters again, Jane.”

  “But they are my parents,” she protested.

  “And must be obeyed? But you will shortly promise to obey me. I think I will claim precedence, and I command you to enjoy yourself.”

  “In any way I please?” she asked, astonished.

  “Yes.”

  Jane looked away. He became more strange and unpredictable with each passing moment. Was this perhaps a test of her high principles?

  “That is rather foolhardy, My Lord,” she said. “Who knows what I might be about.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t say the command was infinite. If you go too far, I will stop you.”

  Jane had been obedient all her life but the idea that she would be completely subject to this man’s will roused a flash of rebellion. She faced him. “Will you, indeed!”

  He smiled. He had wondered just how docile she really was. He was pleased to find the answer to be—not very.

  “Of course. Do you doubt it?”

  “Until we are married,” Jane said boldly, “I will do as I please, under the guidance of Lady Harroving, of course.”

  She watched him warily. Her first protest had been instinctive. Now she was having to struggle to maintain a posture which went so strongly against her training.

  He did not seem concerned. “Very well. But be guided by Sophie also. Of the two of them she probably has more sense of decorum. Randal and Marius will stand as your friends too. Randal is a rattle and not always to be depended on, but Marius is a rock. If you need help when I am not by, apply to him.”

  Jane was amazed that her rebellion had been tak
en so calmly, and, on consideration, this worried her more than it reassured. If what she considered outrageous was perceived as normal, she obviously had no idea of how to go on. His last comment also concerned her. Sir Marius frightened her even more than her betrothed did.

  “I think, My Lord, that merely encourages me to stay by your side whenever possible.”

  “Excellent,” he said in a teasing tone as he placed his arm around her waist and drew her close.

  She tensed by reflex but realized, at the same instant, that she liked it. Jane had not been held like this since she was a child, and the comfort she felt was amazing. To be able to go to another person and be held close whenever she felt the need would be a wonder almost beyond imagining. She relaxed tentatively against him, then drew back slightly. This was obviously another of his skillful, rakish tricks, and he was doubtless amused to see her so easily beguiled. Why did she have to be so vulnerable to this man?

  She looked up and found him staring at her with a slight smile. For some reason, she knew he was thinking of kissing her properly and, unconsciously, she licked her lips. His smile broadened, and at the sight of his amusement she pulled away from him farther still. Dropping his heavy lids, he released her. The kiss she had expected was planted gently on her gloved hand.

  Jane suppressed a twinge of disappointment and congratulated herself on once again avoiding too early a commitment.

  5

  A HEARTY NUNCHEON was served at The Middlehouse, as dinner would be fashionably late. The whole party was gathered for the meal, and there was a lively discussion of the activities for the afternoon. Lord Harroving sion of the activities for the afternoon. Lord Harroving wanted all the men to go with him in search of pike in the river and was disgruntled at the lack of interest. The other gentlemen seemed much more interested in staying with the ladies, so eventually he took himself off to his favourite pastime alone. His wife and Mrs. Danvers decided to attempt some watercolours. The rest of the party settled on archery and went to find the equipment.