Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed

by Jo Beverley

  Phoebe contemplated her friend and patron. “Nothing would please me more than to see her derided, but do you think that would cause David to cry off? He could not. To make his marriage unhappy helps me not at all. I do not wish to merely return to being his mistress.”

  “It was a great mistake to take him to your bed at all,” said Lady Harroving severely. “I’m sure he would have offered for you had you but held him off.”

  Mrs. Danvers merely shrugged.

  “My point is,” said her ladyship, “that there will be no question of crying off if she runs off with a fortune-hunting officer or some other scoundrel.”

  “She wouldn’t!” declared her friend, aghast.

  “She’s just the kind of sulky miss capable of any wildness. I’ve seen these quiet ones before. Do you remember Lady Liza Yelland? Such a little nun until she went to Town, and then, after two major scandals, her father had to double her dowry to get Lanchester to marry her. You know David. If the girl can be encouraged to behave with a lack of decorum, he will cut up stiff. If he attempts to correct her it will put her back up, and she’ll soon be well on the way to hating him. She doesn’t want to marry him. That’s obvious. And I cannot see that he can possibly want to marry her now he’s had a chance to see her in Society. In fact, we will be doing them both a charity. All we need is a clever seducer, and I know a few of those. I did think of Ashby, but I know he wouldn’t do it with David being his friend. Speaking of our Adonis, my dear. Do I gather you have been playing Aphrodite?”

  Mrs. Danvers smiled and licked chocolate from her shapely upper lip. “I have to amuse myself, Maria. Randal and I are old friends. He knows he can always depend on me if he has a really interesting idea. Speaking of which, how was Sir Marius? I have not yet managed to be seduced by him.”

  “He never seduces anyone. I had to seduce him!” snorted her ladyship and then stretched sensually. “He’s such an interesting man!”

  “Tell me all about it,” invited Mrs. Danvers, avidly.

  6

  THE JOURNEY NEXT day from The Middlehouse to London was a far less decorous business than the journey from Carne. Jane and Sophie travelled in one luxurious coach, accompanied by their maids. Lady Harroving, Mrs. Danvers, and their maids travelled in another. Two sim pler carriages had started out earlier in the day containing those other servants essential to their employers’ comfort in Town.

  The gentlemen with their attendants journeyed in their own curricles, and a race was made of it from one stop to the next. The coaches, though each drawn by four fine horses, could not keep up with the lighter sporting vehicles. However, engaged as they were in chewing over the previous stage and their good or ill luck, while enjoying flagons of home brew, the gentlemen didn’t seem to mind waiting for the ladies. As the high-spirited party sat to luncheon at the Bull in Gerrards Cross the gentlemen were still arguing about the previous stretch.

  “I would have beaten you if it hadn’t been for those damned sheep, Randal,” said Sir Marius with grim certainty.

  “You’re a poor loser,” was the jaunty reply. “I had the presence of mind to go across country and bypass them.”

  Sir Marius grunted. “Which only proves you’ve the devil’s own luck. You could have broken an axle!”

  Mrs. Danvers favored Lord Wraybourne with an intimate look. “And where were you, David? I was used to think you a formidable whip.”

  He shrugged with a smile. “It was my turn for the bad luck. I began to feel a wobble from the wheels and found one of the pins working loose. I had to take it easy till I found a wheelwright to fix the rig. Now I’ll show my mettle.”

  “Do you think you can beat me?” asked Lord Randal with shining eyes.

  Lord Wraybourne laughed. “I know I can, for I have before. Today I may.”

  “So clever with words,” taunted the younger man. “Let’s have a bet on it, David.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Count me in,” said Sir Marius firmly. “I’m a better whip than either of you fribbles. Will you join us, Lord Harroving?” But the older man declined, to his wife’s disgust.

  “What stake, gentlemen?” she asked eagerly.

  After a moment’s hesitation Lord Wraybourne said, “Fifty pounds. The two losers to pay a pony each.”

  “Saving your blunt now you’re to be a married man?” teased Lord Randal, confirming Jane’s suspicion that Lord Wraybourne might be purse-pinched. “Fifty it is.” He paused a moment and looked round at the company. “To be used for a gift for the winner’s lady.”

  Eyes bright with mischief he stretched a hand to Lady Sophie. “My lady, may I wear your colors?”

  Sophie pulled out a delicate white lace handkerchief and passed it to him, saying dramatically, “Strive well, my champion!”

  Lord Wraybourne turned to Jane. “Are you willing to condone this insanity and honor me with your colors, my dear?”

  Jane hesitated a moment, sure she would be condemned for joining in with such behavior. But as there appeared to be no protest, she shyly tendered her handkerchief, which was plain, edged with pink embroidery.

  Sir Marius smiled ruefully at his predicament. “Maria,” he said at last. “I can hardly champion a married lady. Mrs. Danvers, will you honor me with your handkerchief?”

  “With pleasure, Sir Marius. And by great good fortune it is trimmed with green.” She graced him with her intimate smile. “I wish you all good fortune and freedom from livestock. You may buy me an aquamarine with the purse. It is my good-luck stone.”

  The three gentlemen tucked their colors in the buttonholes of their driving coats and called for their vehicles. Within minutes they had swept out of sight.

  Sophie passed the journey in a fever of excitement to see whether Lord Randal had won. “He will buy me a gold bracelet,” she declared. “What will you choose if David should win, Jane?”

  Jane was miserably sure that the heavens were going to fall in long before she benefited from such ill-acquired monies. Gambling was above all things abhorrent to Lady Sandiford.

  She managed to say, however, “I think I would leave the choice of gift to Lord Wraybourne.”

  Sophie considered that. “You are cleverer than I, Jane. That is much more subtle and dignified and will ensure that the gentleman must spend some time thinking of your tastes and wishes.”

  Jane blushed and stammered a disclaimer. She had made her reply from fear, having no idea what fifty pounds would buy or what would be a suitable gift from a man to his betrothed. Sophie, however, was thinking for the first time that there were things she could learn from her new friend.

  When the carriages drew to a halt before the Harrovings’ mansion on Marlborough Square, Sophie could hardly wait for the steps to be let down before dashing into the house. Following more slowly, the other ladies found the four gentlemen at their ease, enjoying a fine claret.

  “Well?” demanded Sophie. “Who won?”

  Lord Wraybourne shook his head. “No patience, Sophie. Just like Randal. He tried to pass the stage too soon and ended in the ditch. Lost twenty minutes.”

  Lord Randal smiled apologetically and returned her handkerchief, but she cheerfully let him keep it, “as a reward for a bold attempt.”

  “Sir Marius?” queried Mrs. Danvers.

  “Now Sir Marius is not a hasty man,” said Lord Wraybourne weightily. “Like you, Phoebe, he is clever and cool-headed. He waited till just the right time to pass the stage.”

  “You won, Sir Marius!” she exclaimed.

  “I am afraid not, Mrs. Danvers. David is right. I waited till just the right moment, when I had a clear view of the road and a good breadth to pass in, but he had already gone through on an idiot’s chance. There was no way, David, that you could have known you could pass there.”

  He turned to Mrs. Danvers. “May I keep my insignia, Ma’am, as a memory of the one time David Kyle took a risk I was not willing to take?”

  Laughing, she agreed.

  Lord Wraybourn
e came over to Jane with his colors. “I hope you will allow me to keep this, Jane. In truth, I am not likely to take such a risk again, but it will be pleasant to remember in my old age.”

  She murmured her assent, and when he asked what gift she wanted, she made the same reply that she had given Sophie and earned a smile.

  “I shall afford it careful thought. I hope you will forgive me, Jane, if I am not always in attendance for the next few days. I have a number of matters to attend to after being out of town. I am sure you will be busy with new gowns and new friends, but if you have need of me for any reason, you have only to send round a note to Alton Street.”

  Jane was happy with this arrangement. It would certainly take her time to find her equilibrium among her new companions, and she would manage a great deal better without the turmoil her handsome husband-to-be seemed to stir within her. Jane’s resolution only lasted until the next afternoon, however, when she’d donned her first fashionable outfit and was delighted to discover that Lord Wraybourne would be with them for their introduction to the fashionable parade in Hyde Park. She wanted him, above all men, to see her looking so fine.

  The gown was made of cream-colored muslin, flounced around the bottom. The gathered bodice was hidden beneath a rust-colored velvet spencer, and the high frilled collar framed her face. Her cream straw bonnet was trimmed with velvet ribbons to match the spencer, and cream slippers completed the outfit which had been awaiting her at the modiste’s. Upon surveying herself in the mirrors, she saw a young woman of fashion with some claim to beauty. Perhaps she did, after all, have a chance to gain her husband’s true affections.

  Lord Wraybourne was gratifyingly quick to comment on her elegance.

  “But I have few other clothes,” she told him with a grimace as he settled her on the seat of Lady Harroving’s smart barouche and then took his place beside her. “Madame Danielle, the modiste, said that most of the colors chosen for me by my mother were unsuitable.”

  “Then what are you to do now?”

  “Oh, she will make more,” Jane said airily, unaware of the task the seamstress had undertaken, “and sell those my mother ordered to some other young lady whom they would suit. I am to wear mostly cream and yellow, some green, and reds with an orange tint.”

  Lord Wraybourne was observing her excitement indulgently. “Did Sophie accompany you?”

  “Oh yes. And you ordered some outfits, did you not, Sophie?” she asked of the young lady opposite.

  Sophie made a face at her brother. “Just two new gowns, David. Madame Danielle is very skillful.”

  “Did I say a word?” he protested.

  “You were doing accounts in your head. You will have to take care, Jane, or he will have you in the same gown for years.”

  So they were in financial difficulties. Jane made haste to reassure him. “I am really very frugal, My Lord.”

  He took her hand. “Sophie is teasing, my dear. I will always be delighted to have my wife be a leader of fashion.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I could be that.”

  “Do you not? You are beautiful, and you have the height for fine dressing. Your carriage is extremely graceful. I am sure your mother is a great advocate of the backboard. I see no reason you should not become a standard for the rest to follow.”

  Jane was quite overset. She had hoped for some appreciation, yet again he had turned to outright flattery, and she did not wish to be paid in hollow coin. She wished she could tell him it was unnecessary, that there was no doubt she would marry him and endow him with her fortune.

  Instead, she had to resort to a light tone. “Lord Wraybourne, are you paying me compliments to upset me? Be assured, you will not succeed again.”

  By the gleam in his eye, Jane guessed he was about to take up this rash challenge. She was grateful that they were entering the park, as Lady Harroving began to bow and wave and point out people of importance. Lord Wraybourne was happy also to be a guide.

  “That lady in the gray landau is Lady Foley. She is acknowledged a beauty. Her husband is standing over there with some other men. He is commonly called Number Eleven because he is so thin, you see.”

  “Does he not mind?”

  “Good heavens, no. It is the aim of everyone to be distinguished for something even if only for lack of flesh.”

  “Oh. For what are you distinguished, My Lord?”

  The gleam in his eye warned her before he spoke. “Why for capturing the richest and most beautiful heiress in England, what else?”

  She took refuge in severity. “If you continue to lay the butter on so thick, My Lord, I will refuse to speak to you entirely.”

  “Many a husband would consider that a blessing,” he said mischievously and then added, “But I could be persuaded to stop for a little while by a lady who would address me as David, rather than My Lord.”

  Jane smiled triumphantly. “Sophie,” she called to attract that damsel’s attention away from a group of friends too far away to actually hear her greetings. “Your brother says that he will cease pestering me with high-flown compliments if you will ask him.”

  Sophie was bewildered. “Why ever would you wish him to stop? David, what are you about?”

  Lord Wraybourne was laughing. “Merely being outmaneuvered in a masterly fashion. Very well, Jane. I give you victory, for now.”

  Sophie regarded them in indulgent perplexity for a moment, then returned to the fascinating business of greeting old friends.

  Jane relished the warmth of her victory, not acknowledging that a great part of the pleasure was generated by the admiration Lord Wraybourne obviously felt for her quick wits. She used those wits to observe and remember as her companions threw names and tidbits of gossip at her, and she only spoke when introductions were made. Despite her concentration, her head was soon spinning, and she knew that she was as likely to call Gentleman Jack-son the Duke of Rutland as to get any of the names right.

  “I have forgotten every one of them,” she whispered in dismay to Lord Wraybourne as the carriage turned for home. “What am I to do?”

  “Good heavens, don’t even try to remember names yet. You’ll soon get to know all the important people. Maria, Sophie, and I will be around to prompt you.”

  Jane cast a doubtful glance at the older lady. It had become obvious that she had no intention of putting herself to any effort for her charges. Still, Jane made no comment. She knew her brain to be keen and had no doubt she could learn about the bewilderments of the ton with only a minimum of help. She had noticed how popular Lord Wraybourne was and how knowledgeable about Society. It would be to her advantage if he was to devote himself to her in the next few days, even if he insisted on his flattering ways. But how was she to reverse her previous order to him to cease his attentions, without losing face? There was only one way. For the first time in her life, Jane set out to flirt with a man, and believed she was being quite subtle until he handed her down at Marlborough Square.

  He held her hand and said, with a slight smile, “Whatever it is you want, Jane, it would doubtless be easier if you just asked me.”

  This had the effect of rendering her speechless, and she hurried into the house so fast she appeared to be in flight.

  “Whatever are you about, David?” asked his sister in surprise. “I would have thought you a little more skillful. You appear to be constantly casting poor Jane into a panic.”

  “Dear Sophie, you know nothing of the matter,” replied her brother amiably.

  “You look odiously self-satisfied. If you are mean to Jane you will have me to deal with. She is my friend.”

  He gave her a very warm smile. “Excellent. I hope you will look out for her. Everything here is new and since Jane won a victory and I am no longer allowed to tease her with compliments, you have no need to worry about me. I am a toothless lion.”

  Sophie shook her head. “You are an idiot. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love.” With that she swept into the house and went to seek out Jane. />
  She found her friend had forgotten any distress over her betrothed and was staring helplessly at a huge mound of packages on her bed. After visiting the modiste earlier in the day the three ladies had stopped in at Layton and Shears for some trimmings and at Mills Haberdashers for other necessities such as silk stockings and gloves. Jane knew she had bought a number of items and remembered the attendant footman had had to make many trips back to the carriage with their purchases, but surely not as many as this.

  “What am I to do with all this, Sophie?”

  “Open them.” Sophie poked at the pile. “Some of these are mine, I think.” Decisively she rang the bell and when Prudence arrived she was given the task of opening the parcels while the young ladies made their judgment.

  “Those silk stockings were mine, Jane. I remember the clocks. Are they not delightful? Bronze flowers! Are those yours?”

  “Yes, Madame Danielle said I should wear bronze but I’m not sure I like them anymore.”

  “Positively gothic,” was Sophie’s comment. “I cannot imagine why anyone would wear metal flowers except gold or silver. Give them to Prudence.”

  Jane was pleased with her purchase of plain silk stockings, the first she had ever had, and some artificial cherries, which were all the rage, but found six pairs of plain cotton stockings for everyday wear to be too coarse, so Prudence was given those too. When the maid left, she was piled high with items: string mittens that were too short in the fingers, ivy leaves that Sophie declared would make her look like an ancient monument, braid that was quite hideous, lace that did not, after all, match Sophie’s green Pyrenean mantle, and a reticule which had probably been purchased by Lady Harroving. Sophie gave it to the maid anyway, saying it was ugly and Maria needed to be protected from herself.

  At this rate, thought the maid as she staggered away under her load, she would be able to retire and open a haberdashery shop of her own.