“Enchanted, Miss Mayfield!” Lord Travers bowed over Charity’s hand with a flourish, but when he straightened up and smiled at her she thought the look in his eyes contained more appraisal than warmth.
It was as if he was assessing how useful she was to him, and had already decided that she would be of no use at all. She didn’t like it, but it would have been discourteous to walk away so soon after they had been introduced, especially with Lady Leydon smiling so warmly at her, so she concentrated on attending to what Lord Travers was saying in such confidential tones.
* * *
Jack was late, but as soon as he arrived he knew he was the focus of everyone’s attention. He also knew that a great deal of the interest was far from kindly, but he refused to allow it to disturb him.
Charity was standing near the wall, talking to Owen, when she first saw Lord Riversleigh. As usual he was dressed in black as a mark of respect for his grandfather, but she was immediately convinced that he was the most elegant man in the room. He was certainly the tallest, and he bowed over Lady Leydon’s hand with the lazy grace which typified all his movements. His hostess was clearly delighted with him, and immediately took the opportunity to introduce him to her daughter, Lydia.
Charity watched surreptitiously, quite forgetting that Owen was standing beside her and paying no attention at all to what he was saying to her. She was too far away to hear what Lady Leydon was saying, but for a moment she was surprised that her hostess should respond so favourably to Jack—surprised, that was, because Lord Travers’s conversation had been composed almost entirely of delicate but extremely damaging slanders against Lord Riversleigh.
From his description one would have supposed Jack not only to be a hardened rake, but also a man of dubious integrity in all matters of honour.
Charity had done her best to deny the stories, but Lord Travers had adopted a worldly air which was almost impossible for her to counteract. It was also very difficult for Charity to say too much without laying herself open to unwelcome questions.
On the whole, therefore, it was understandable that she should be momentarily startled by Lady Leydon’s apparent willingness to introduce Lord Riversleigh to her daughter.
Then Charity realised that she was being foolish: one had only to meet Lord Riversleigh to realise at once that Lord Travers’s insinuations could not possibly be true. Of course Lady Leydon had discounted the stories. She gave a faint sigh of relief and relaxed slightly, and it was only then that she discovered that in her first agitation she had gripped her fan so tightly that she had snapped one of its fragile sticks.
It was perhaps fortunate for her continued good opinion of her hostess that she didn’t realise that Lady Leydon hadn’t really been paying much attention to Lord Travers, and that most of what he had said had passed completely over her head. Lady Leydon, in fact, had been far more influenced in her opinions by what she had discovered from Lady Dalrymple—and Lady Dalrymple had made it very plain that Jack was an extremely wealthy man.
“So he’s here, then,” said Owen darkly, his eyes also on Lord Riversleigh. Unlike his mother, he continued to be more influenced by what he’d been told by another man, rather than by an old woman’s foolish gossiping. “After what Lord Travers has told us I’m surprised he dares to show his face in public.”
“And I’m surprised at you, Owen Leydon!” Charity rounded on him. “I hadn’t spent more than two minutes with Lord Travers before realising he was a spiteful scandalmonger. He’s making all the stories up! They have no basis in reality. He’s a small-minded man; he’d hate to make a fool of himself in front of others. No doubt he did something stupid in Lord Riversleigh’s presence and this is his notion of revenge!”
“How can you say such a thing about our guest?” Owen demanded. “Lord Travers…” He suddenly realised he had allowed his voice to rise, and broke off, continuing more quietly, but no less furiously, “Lord Travers is a gentleman, and a friend of my father, and you have as good as accused him of lying!”
“Not ‘as good as’, Owen,” Charity corrected him, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “You know me better than that. I say he is lying. It would be interesting to know the real reason.”
They were standing a little aside from the rest of the guests and no one had overheard what they’d said, but it was apparent to everyone that they were arguing. Mrs Carmichael was not the only one who began to edge closer in an attempt to find out what was going on.
“Not Lord Travers, Lord Riversleigh!” said Owen furiously. “What lies has he told you? How did he cozen his way into your favour? They say he has a way with the ladies. I think more must have happened on your ride together than you admit to!” He stopped, aghast at what he had said, and alarmed at the look in Charity’s eyes.
Owen wasn’t the only one to see Charity’s expression change. Everyone knew Owen Leydon and Charity Mayfield had been arguing with each other ever sine they had been children, and no one, not even Lady Leydon, took very much notice of their bickering. But this was different, and for the second time in two days Owen knew he had gone too far.
Charity didn’t say anything; for a moment she just stared at him, her eyes dark in her pale face—then she walked away. She didn’t exclaim and she didn’t flounce, she acted as if she were quite alone in the room, and in the sudden silence the people simply parted before her. Even the musicians Sir Humphrey had engaged to add lustre to the occasion were aware that something was wrong, and paused briefly and discordantly in the middle of a tune.
Anger got Charity safely to her mother’s side, then she realised what she had done and she nearly faltered, but pride took over, and she managed to smile at Mrs Mayfield, almost as if nothing had happened.
“Charity! Whatever did Owen say?” Mrs Mayfield asked anxiously.
“Nothing, Mama, don’t worry. Would you like some lemonade?” Charity suddenly decided she couldn’t bear to be questioned at that moment, and she seized at the first excuse she could think of to take her away from her mother’s side.
“Yes, but…” Mrs Mayfield began. The hum of conversation had returned, and Lady Leydon had gestured urgently for the musicians to continue playing, but both Charity and Owen were receiving several surreptitious glances, and Charity knew that she had given the gossips something else to talk about.
“I’ll get you some lemonade,” she said, more curtly than usual, and stood up.
She was intercepted before she could reach the sideboard, or find a footman to serve her.
“Charity, I couldn’t help noticing…I do hope Owen didn’t offend you,” Lady Leydon murmured anxiously.
“No. Please don’t concern yourself.” Lady Leydon was the last person Charity wanted to speak to, but she forced herself to relax and smile pleasantly to her hostess. “It was just a silly misunderstanding. I’m sorry if I distressed you; I didn’t mean to disrupt the party.”
“Owen can be too outspoken at times,” Lady Leydon said. “I’m sure you know he doesn’t mean anything by it. Please don’t be annoyed.”
“I’m not, really I’m not,” Charity assured her, thinking that it was typical of Lady Leydon to be apologising for Owen without really knowing whether or not he was at fault. She was a quiet, nervous woman, often disconcerted by the more forthright, forceful characters of her husband and son.
“I was just going to fetch Mama some of your excellent lemonade,” said Charity. “I believe you must have some secret ingredient which makes it so much more delicious than other people’s. I always used to think so when I was a child.”
“Thank you!” Lady Leydon exclaimed, glad that the conversation had moved on to a more innocuous topic. “You’re quite right—however did you guess? It was my mother’s recipe; she always insisted that one should put in half a teaspoon of…” She led Charity away, still talking about the best way of making lemonade.
* * *
“Do you know where Mr Edward Riversleigh is?” Mrs Carmichael asked. “It seems strange that he hasn’t
come back to Sussex. But perhaps the experience would be too painful for him—so soon after his grandfather’s death,” she finished with spurious innocence.
“I believe he’s in Rome,” Jack said calmly.
“Rome!” Mrs Carmichael exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “Whatever made him go there?” She looked at Lord Riversleigh suspiciously.
“His interest in the architecture,” said Jack with rather chilly politeness. “He told me that he has always had a great desire to see it at first hand. I think he was looking forward to the opportunity.”
“Oh,” said Mrs Carmichael. She was clearly not convinced. She undoubtedly suspected that Edward had gone away to nurse his grievances in private; or, even worse, that Jack had engineered Edward’s absence deliberately in an attempt to remove a possible rival.
Jack sighed inwardly. He could make a fairly accurate guess at Mrs Carmichael’s thoughts and he was annoyed—he disliked having his motives misconstrued—but he had no intention of justifying or explaining himself to her or anyone else. In any case, he had known that his unexpected arrival in Sussex would give rise to rumour and possibly suspicion, and he had thought that it would only be a matter of time before both died down.
What he hadn’t expected was to discover that his own character, and those of his parents and his maternal grandfather, had been determinedly blackened. Jack still didn’t know exactly what was being said—nobody repeated the stories to his face—but when he saw Lord Travers he knew who was behind the rumours.
He also knew that there were a number of people at the Leydons’ that night who, out of consideration for his title or his wealth, were quite prepared to forgive him for his own supposed misdemeanours, for the trifling anomaly that his mother had been a tradesman’s daughter, and even for the fact that his father had been anything from a cardsharp to a murderer—Lord Travers’s stories were becoming increasingly lurid.
“Ah, Charity!” Mrs Carmichael reached out and caught Charity by the arm as she was trying to pass by with two glasses of lemonade. “Have you met Lord Riversleigh?”
“Yes, thank you.” Charity extended her arms slightly so that the lemonade that had spilled when Mrs Carmichael jogged her arm didn’t drip too badly on to her dress. “How do you do, my lord?”
“Excellently, thank you. May I hold that glass for you?” Jack said.
He took the glass from Charity, offered her a spotless linen handkerchief, and took the other glass while she wiped her hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were carrying anything,” said Mrs Carmichael with an unconvincing show of concern. “I hope your dress isn’t spoiled.”
“No, not at all. But I’m afraid Lord Riversleigh’s handkerchief is. Thank you, sir.” Charity smiled at Jack.
“Lord Riversleigh tells me that Mr Riversleigh has gone to Rome!” Mrs Carmichael said, because it was to pass on that piece of news that she had stopped Charity in the first place, and she never allowed herself to be distracted from her purpose. Besides, everyone knew that Charity and Edward Riversleigh had been on very good terms.
“I know,” Charity said immediately. “Mama and I received a letter from him only yesterday. He’s enjoying himself immensely. He’s always wanted to go there, you know.” She smiled warmly at Mrs Carmichael. “But without Lord Riversleigh’s generosity it would never have been possible. I believe he’s written to you, also, my lord,” she continued, turning to Jack. “But in case that letter goes astray he particularly asked us to tell you how very grateful he is to you. To be honest, I think he’s rather relieved at the way things have turned out. He’s finally got the chance to do what he’s always wanted to do. Excuse me, but I promised Mama I’d fetch her some lemonade.” She smiled impartially at Jack and Mrs Carmichael and went in search of Mrs Mayfield.
“A charming girl,” said Mrs Carmichael, briefly distracted from her attempts to find out more about Edward Riversleigh by her desire to talk about Charity. “But very headstrong. I’m afraid she takes after her father. I dare say you saw that argument she had with Owen Leydon earlier. I wouldn’t want any daughter of mine to behave so forwardly in public. Mind you, I shouldn’t say this, of course, but Owen could try the patience of a saint. But I expect Helena Mayfield was disappointed; I’m sure she’d like to see Charity settled comfortably. You’ve heard about their troubles, of course?” But it was a rhetorical question, and Mrs Carmichael didn’t wait for Jack to reply. “It will be a sad day for us all when they leave Hazelhurst,” she carried on. “Have you met Lord Ashbourne, my lord? What’s he like?”
“I have met him, but I’m afraid I’m not one of his intimates. Excuse me, ma’am,” said Jack, and turned away abruptly before he was tempted to reply more forthrightly than he considered wise or desirable.
* * *
“Letter, Miss Mayfield?” Lord Riversleigh asked. It was the first time he had had an opportunity to speak to Charity alone, and the evening was already well advanced.
She was standing near a window, unobtrusively pushing the curtain back slightly so that she could feel the cool air on her face. Using her other hand, she was fanning herself with her damaged fan with as much vigour as she considered compatible with decorum.
She blinked at Jack, briefly at a loss, yet suddenly feeling happier than she had done all evening. Then she smiled, that rare, open smile that seemed to distinguish her from almost anyone else Jack had ever met.
“Well, there might have been a letter,” she said. “And if there had been that’s exactly what Edward would have said, so I’m not going to feel guilty.”
“But what possible reason could you have for thinking that Edward has any particular cause to be grateful to me?” Jack asked, something not quite a smile in his eyes.
“You told me the first day we met that he’d found a patron,” Charity pointed out, returning his smile so delightfully that he felt his heart turn over. “I wondered at the time, but I had other things on my mind, so I didn’t pursue it. But if you haven’t made him, at the very least, a handsome allowance I shall be greatly surprised.”
“I’d hate to disappoint you,” Jack murmured. He was amused, but gratified by Charity’s perception, and by the accuracy of her guess. In fact, Edward Riversleigh now had more financial security than he’d ever had before in his life, and arguably more than he would have had if he had actually inherited Riversleigh. He was very happy with the way things had turned out, though at first he had been somewhat bewildered by Jack’s generosity.
“Are you always so quick to defend others?” Lord Riversleigh continued more seriously.
“That depends,” Charity said vaguely, her mind on other things. “How much money did you lend Lord Travers?”
Jack gazed down at her in surprise. His anger had been growing throughout the evening, though he had concealed it very well. He wasn’t a fool and, and though no one had said anything openly to him, it hadn’t taken him long to get the gist of Lord Travers’s slanders.
The slurs against his own character annoyed him, but the lies that were being circulated about his father outraged him—partly because they were so unfair, and partly because the breach between the late Lord Riversleigh and his second son made them too easy to believe.
He had been on the brink of challenging Lord Travers several times, but his inherent good sense had warned him that that was not the answer. A duel might well turn a difficult situation into a full-blown scandal. Besides, he had other, better ways of dealing with the man.
He had also known that not everyone would take the stories at face value, but so far no one had given any indication that they disbelieved Lord Travers, and he certainly hadn’t expected anyone to see so clearly what lay behind his vindictiveness.
“I’m sorry,” said Charity when Jack didn’t say anything. “I’m afraid I spoke without thinking again. Please forget it.”
“No, no, don’t apologise.” Jack suddenly realised he had been staring at her in silence for several seconds. “I was surprised, that
’s all. I hadn’t thought anyone would guess.”
“You did lend him money, then?”
“The bank did.”
“I thought so,” Charity said, pleased that her supposition had proved correct. “He looks the kind of extravagant man who’d get himself into debt. I told Owen I was sure he was taking revenge for his own stupidity on y…others,” she amended hastily.
“You told Owen?” Jack echoed, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Was that what your argument was about?”
“I think I ought to find Mama,” said Charity. She suddenly seemed flustered. She closed her fan with a snap and tried to move away from the window. “It’s getting late. We should be leaving soon.”
“Miss Mayfield.” Jack reached out to rest a detaining hand lightly on her arm.
Neither of them was prepared for the sudden surge of emotion which leapt between them as he touched her, and Charity almost gasped. She stared up into his face with wide, startled eyes, and it was only with an effort that Jack remembered what he had been intending to say.
“I know what’s being said about my father, and since Travers is the Leydons’ guest I’m sure Owen believes it. Did you defend me?” he asked in a calm voice which belied his inner feelings.
For a second he wondered if she’d heard what he’d said. Her gaze was fixed on his face, her lips slightly parted as if she was trying to understand…but then she looked down at her fan, half opening and closing it with hands that trembled slightly.
“I told Owen that Lord Travers must be lying,” she said at last, her voice sounding muffled in her own ears, and her eyes still fixed on her fan. “I think he was annoyed because I’d insulted a guest in his house.”
“I see,” said Jack slowly. “Thank you.” He looked down at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, quite forgetful of their surroundings.
Ten Guineas on Love Page 10