Sons of the Marquess Collection

by Mary Kingswood

  “In sixty years or so.”

  “And a marchioness while you wait! What could be more delightful?”

  “I am not interested in titles, Lady Cotter,” Robinia snapped.

  “Well, you should be! Although I do not think Lord Ramsey is serious. But Lord Sandwood — I never saw a man more in love. He would have you tomorrow if you would have him.”

  “As he has been telling me daily for almost two weeks now.” She raised her eyes heavenwards. “Why does the man not take my refusals seriously?”

  “He has your father’s permission to pay his addresses to you,” Lady Cotter said severely. “That is very proper in him, to write to your father in that way. Really, Robinia, you have been given this wonderful opportunity to make the most glorious marriage, and you seem determined to throw it away.”

  Robinia bit her lip, aware that her behaviour was bordering on rude. “I beg your pardon,” she said humbly. “I am very grateful for all that you are doing for me, and Lady Carrbridge too.”

  “There, there, child, that will do,” Lady Cotter said, patting her hand. “You are a good girl, I know, and you have made me very proud of you this season. Such a success! Never was there anything like it! Now, what shall you wear to the opera tonight? The green and gold? You look so well in those colours.”

  The opera! Another chance to see her captain, for they had met there twice already, and perhaps she might hope for a third time. Her engagements these days were such that she had little expectation of seeing the familiar regimentals and his dear face, but anyone might obtain a ticket to attend the opera.

  But he was not there, nor at the modest card party they attended later, another house where once she had encountered him. It was disappointing, but Reggie’s example had taught her how to hide her feelings. So she smiled and made polite conversation with the other guests and played whist and was still smiling as she went home, assuring Lady Cotter in the carriage that indeed, she had enjoyed herself, and how pleasant to have a quiet evening with no grand balls for a change. Then she had gone to her room, allowed the maid to undress her and only when she had climbed into bed and was alone had she laid her head on the pillow and wept a little. Where was he? And why did he not come?

  The morning brought a new hope, for it was Lady Cotter’s day to receive calls and surely today he would come? And this time her hopes were fulfilled. At the earliest possible hour, almost as soon as she and Lady Cotter had taken up their embroidery in the drawing room in preparation for their visitors, his name was announced.

  She jumped eagerly to her feet, her embroidery tumbling to the floor in her excitement. And then the boring greetings were forgotten and they were both crouched on the floor, giggling, picking up the dropped fabric and threads. After making his greetings to Lady Cotter, more visitors were announced — Lord Sandwood, of course, always eager, and bringing his sister and aunt with him today — and under cover of the bustle, Captain Daker pushed a screwed-up slip of paper into her hand. She blushed, for it was greatly improper for him to write to her, or for her to receive such missives, and Lady Cotter was such a stickler for correctness. But any letter from him was a prize to be treasured, so she pushed it hastily to the bottom of her work bag, and bent her head dutifully to her stitchery.

  Oh, the joy of seeing him again, of being in the same room as her love! It was almost too much. She could feel her smile stretched across her entire face, and yet could not reduce it by one iota, nor prevent herself from blushing again and again. She could not say much to him, for her throat was too choked with emotion, but she could look, savouring the lines of his dear face, the curve of his mouth, the nose so straight and true. His voice was better than a symphony to her ears, so tired as she was of empty flattery and mindless talk of the weather. Fortunately, he was composed enough for both of them, and talked easily about this outing or that — was she going to the Routledges’ card party? When did she intend to go to the theatre again? And Vauxhall Gardens — was the plan for the thirteenth still in place?

  She answered as best she could, although she knew little of their plans for evening engagements. Lady Cotter was a ditherer, who decided at the last minute what invitations they would accept. Still, Robinia was painfully aware that there was little overlap between her likely engagements and his. Just one, in fact — the excursion to Vauxhall Gardens.

  “Ah,” he said in satisfaction, hearing that she would definitely be there on the thirteenth. “I have tickets for it already. That is one place where they cannot keep me away from you.”

  “And here,” she said. “You may always call on me here.”

  “I hope that may be the case,” he said, casting a quick glance at Lady Cotter.

  The captain did not stay long, making his graceful farewells after just half an hour — more than mere politeness dictated, but not so long as to attract censure. After that, Robinia was obliged to sit and make conversation with a succession of visitors — admirers bearing beribboned posies and insipid compliments, or other young ladies with their mamas, to talk over the Marford House ball in excruciatingly boring detail.

  And one surprising visitor — Lord Humphrey Marford, who had never called before.

  “I am sent by Lady Carrbridge to enquire upon your health, Miss Chamberlain,” he said. “She is anxious to know that you have quite recovered from your late night on Tuesday.”

  “I am perfectly well, as you see. Pray thank Lady Carrbridge for her solicitude,” she replied, although she guessed on whose behalf he really came.

  Lord Humphrey was as unlike his brother as it was possible to be. Where Reggie was slim and dark and unobtrusively dressed, Humphrey was big and fair and as flamboyantly dressed as a dandy, although he carried it off with aplomb. The room seemed smaller with him in it, but he was neither insipid nor boring, so she was sorry to see him go after just fifteen minutes.

  But then an opportunity arose for her to dash to her room, clutching her work bag, and read the words of her beloved. A letter! He had written to her once before, openly, but Lady Cotter had intercepted that missive. The occasion had produced a lecture for her — a single lady may not receive a letter from a gentleman unless sanctioned by her father — and for him too, told in no uncertain terms never to repeat the offence. But now he had contrived to pass his note to her secretly, an event which both thrilled and appalled her simultaneously. It was very wrong in her to accept it, and she knew she should hand the scrap of paper, unopened, to Lady Cotter at once. But her need to know what it said overcame her good sense, and she eagerly untwisted it and smoothed it out.

  It was hard to read, for the letters were scrawled unevenly and marred by blots, but it was very brief.

  ‘Dearest, I am in need of funds. Can you get two hundred to me today? I shall be in Hartley’s circulating library until five. Do not fail me. RD’

  With trembling fingers, she emptied her purse onto the bed and counted the coins. Twenty-three pounds four shillings and sixpence three farthings. Nothing like enough! How on earth was she to get hold of two hundred pounds today? It was impossible, and yet, she must not fail him. She must not! There had to be a way.

  17: A Pearl Necklace

  Robinia was not at a loss for long. She had several items of jewellery valuable enough to raise the necessary amount. A quick look through her jewellery box revealed an obvious candidate — a pearl necklace with a small ruby pendant. It had been her grandmother’s, who had given it to her on her fifteenth birthday. It was too grand for ordinary evenings and not grand enough for balls, so she had rarely worn it in London and it would likely not be missed. Besides, it was her own, unlike some of the other pieces, loaned by Mama and Aunt Kitty. She tucked it away in her reticule.

  Her second problem was more difficult — how was she to get to a shop to sell her necklace? She knew of several that would do for the purpose, but she could not go with Lady Cotter. For a moment she toyed with the idea of sending her maid, but a servant selling a valuable necklace might attract suspicio
n. It would never do if poor Betty were to be hauled off to the constables! No, she would have to go herself.

  “May I take Betty and go out for a walk later?” she said to Lady Cotter as soon as an opportunity arose. “I should love some fresh air, and I should not go far, just as far as the milliner’s shop.”

  “Aha, now we come to it,” Lady Cotter said, smiling. “You have a yearning for a new bonnet, do you? Well, perhaps tomorrow, my dear, but today we are promised in Cameron Street.”

  “Cameron Street? Who do we know there? Oh!”

  “Yes, indeed, Lord Sandwood has his London house there. Naturally, we have not called there before, but his mama is in residence now so it is perfectly acceptable. She has come all the way from Devon, just fancy, and she never attends the season as a rule, so it must be something quite out of the ordinary to bring her here just now. We may guess at her reasons, eh?”

  Robinia lowered her head, flushing. “Must we go? For I am quite determined not to have him, and it would be a thousand pities if his lordship has brought Lady Sandwood all that way to no purpose.”

  “Let us be realistic, Robinia,” Lady Cotter said firmly. “Now that Lord Reginald is out of contention, Lord Sandwood is quite the most eligible of your suitors. Well, I suppose there is Lord Ramsey, but I do not count him since I have it on very good authority that his father has other plans for him. Lord Sandwood’s property is not extensive, but he has six thousand a year and no debts or other encumbrances, so he is not in great need of your fortune. It is an excellent match, and he has been a confirmed bachelor for so many years that it is the greatest triumph to have snared him. Your father would be quite delighted. Indeed, he is delighted, and has given the viscount his full permission to address you.”

  “That does not mean I am obliged to marry him,” Robinia said, her chin rising defiantly.

  “No, but there is nothing to be gained by snubbing him, either. Or his mother,” she added feelingly. “Lady Sandwood may live retired, but she knows everybody of importance. One word from her could snuff out your prospects at a stroke, and not even the Carrbridges could save you then. We will call upon her, and you will be the well-behaved and delightful girl I know you are, and all will be well.”

  “It seems heartless to lead him on, allowing him to believe—” Robinia said in desperation.

  “No more nonsense, if you please! He may believe as he chooses, and if you turn him down in the end… well, I hope you will not, but if you should prefer one of your other admirers…”

  Robinia nodded eagerly.

  “But not, I trust, Captain Daker. He may be handsome and look very well in a red coat, which I will grant you is no more than the truth, but that would not be a prudent match. He is by no means your equal, and his character—” She stopped, looking thoughtfully at Robinia. “There is much that could be said, but let us speak no more of him now. We had better change. Your new blue afternoon gown, I believe, with the matching spencer and bonnet.”

  There was nothing to be done about it. Robinia dutifully changed and sat beside Lady Cotter for the short ride to Cameron Street, there to be admitted to the nondescript little house that was Lord Sandwood’s home during the season. They stayed for an hour, perhaps the longest and dullest hour she had ever endured. Lady Sandwood was angular and severe, looking her up and down and asking impertinent personal questions of Lady Cotter as if Robinia were not there. She felt like a horse being inspected for poor teeth or odd lumps on the legs. And all the while, Lord Sandwood sat silently, his eyes fixed on her, a mesmerised expression on his face. It was a homely face, she had to admit, with pale hair already receding and glassy blue eyes. Perhaps they were glass, she wondered, and then almost choked on her tea at the thought.

  “Cake, Miss Chamberlain?” the viscountess said. “She does not eat much. Is she ill, Lady Cotter?”

  Robinia forced down another crumb of dry, unappetising cake, and took a mouthful of weak tea before setting the cup and saucer down firmly on a side table.

  “More tea?”

  “Thank you, no. It was… um, refreshingly light.”

  “Ah, you are observing the proper manner of serving tea,” the viscountess said. “I reuse the leaves, you see, so that it is never too strong. Freshly brewed tea is most injurious to health, Miss Chamberlain. And thus one is able to economise by purchasing less. Economy is most important, do you not agree? I pride myself on keeping a most economical house, and I have brought Arthur up in the same sensible manner. I do not approve of ostentation or excess, not in the slightest.”

  Perhaps that was why he wore such ill-fitting coats, she realised, and breeches not tight enough to comply with the current fashion. He was not much older than Reggie, and dressed in a very similar unobtrusive style, with dark coats and plain waistcoats, but where Reggie looked every inch the gentleman, perfectly attired for every occasion, Lord Sandwood looked rumpled and dowdy. And old. Somehow he looked older than his years. She shivered.

  “Are you cold, Miss Chamberlain? Lady Cotter, does she have a fever? I cannot have Arthur exposed to the slightest possibility of fever. His chest, you know! He must be so careful of his chest.”

  And within two minutes, they were on the pavement again, awaiting their carriage.

  “Well,” said Lady Cotter. And then, “Well, that was abrupt, and after she kept us so long, too. I thought we should never get away.”

  “Next time I shall sneeze after half an hour,” Robinia said solemnly.

  Lady Cotter stared at her, and then burst out laughing, her whole frame shaking, to the amazement of their coachman, who appeared round the corner from the mews at just that moment.

  Lady Cotter waited until they were both settled and the carriage was in motion again before she said, “Not such a catch, after all. I shall cross him off the list. Economy, indeed!” And in a passable imitation of Lady Sandwood’s reedy warble, she added, “He must be so careful of his chest!”

  They laughed merrily all the way home, and Robinia was delighted. Now if only her godmother could be persuaded to cross all her other suitors off her list, life would be so much easier. She had not imagined her beloved would be viewed in such a poor light. But this was London, after all, and a mere captain of the militia must appear to disadvantage beside the great men of the capital.

  ~~~~~

  The very next morning, Robinia crept out of the house before Lady Cotter was up. She took her maid with her, but she left Betty outside the jeweller’s shop while she transacted her business. The jeweller was most obliging and all was concluded in a pleasingly brisk manner, so that she was able to return home with her surprisingly heavy reticule before Lady Cotter was aware of her absence.

  However, there was then the difficulty of getting the money to Captain Daker, for as soon as breakfast was over, every hour of the day was accounted for and even if she had all the time in the world, she could not simply go to him when she wished, as a man could do. She fretted over it rather, but there was nothing to be done about it. Never had she felt so helpless! London was so restrictive to unmarried ladies. At home, she could walk about the village and the country lanes with impunity, and no one thought anything of it. Here, she dared not step outside the door without at least her maid with her, and then she must stay in certain prescribed streets and never, ever enter any of the popular parks or certain infamous streets where ladies were not supposed to be. If she did, she would be quite ruined, she knew, or at least there would be no more vouchers for Almacks, which amounted to much the same thing.

  It was necessary to play by the rules, if she wished to enjoy her season. She very much wanted to — oh, how much she wanted to be good and do as she ought! There were times and places where she could speak her mind, and be, not quite wilful, but a little spirited. But there were also times and places where she absolutely must behave with impeccable propriety, and the season was very much one of those occasions. Every instinct screamed at her to do nothing that might provoke the wrath of the unforgiving ton. Y
et already she had felt very uncomfortable in accepting a letter from Captain Daker, in selling her lovely necklace and in deceiving Lady Cotter, who trusted her. And now she had to try to find a way to convey two hundred pounds to the captain, who could not be supposed to wait in Hartley’s circulating library every afternoon, on the chance that one day she would turn up.

  So she was rather quiet as they made their round of morning calls. Their first stop was Marford House, the Chinese saloon already full of waving feathers and shimmering satin. Robinia felt quite plainly dressed by comparison. She made her greetings to Lady Carrbridge and then moved further into the room, to be drawn at once into a circle of girls her own age, all twittering excitedly. How pleasant to recognise so many faces, even if she felt disinclined to twitter herself. So she let the chatter wash around her, while her mind pondered her problem. How she wished the only problem before her was which gown to wear that evening! She did not like handing over money in this sordid way. It was a cold, uncomfortable feeling that destroyed much of her pleasure in the day.

  She was lost in her own thoughts when she became aware of a pair of well-polished hessians in front of her. Looking up, she saw Lord Humphrey smiling down at her.

  “Miss Chamberlain! How are you? Well, I trust?”

  “Very well, I thank you, my lord.”

  “I am so pleased you are here today, for I have something of yours, something you inadvertently left behind recently, which I am sure you would like to have back.”

  “Really? Something I left behind at Marford House?”

  “You stayed here for the ball,” he said, “and it is astonishing what may slip behind a dresser, do you not find? Here — this is yours, is it not?”

  And he produced from a pocket a necklace — the very necklace which just a few hours before had been sold to a jeweller for the sum of two hundred pounds. She cried out in shock, for the story he told was plainly false and it was beyond her comprehension how he came to have it.