Miss Verey’s Proposal

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘And just how much do you know about that, Miss Verey?’ Alex said, very softly.

  Suddenly Jane was frightened. There had always been something exciting about crossing swords with Alexander Delahaye, but now she realised that she was completely out of her depth. This was real, and dangerous and threatening. She thought of the way in which he had casually referred to her deceit, the fact that he did not trust her, and the tears stung her eyes.

  Alex stood back with an ironic bow, gesturing to her to sit down again. Jane sat without a word, curling up as tight as she could for both warmth and comfort.

  ‘Shall we start again, Miss Verey?’ Alex said.

  There was a little silence. The candle flame flickered. Jane capitulated.

  ‘Very well! There is no mystery! It is misfortunes in love rather than anything else that trouble Simon.’

  ‘Indeed. What matter of the heart could take him to Spitalfields?’

  Jane’s eyes flashed at his disbelieving tone. ‘Something far less dubious than your own activities, I am sure, your Grace! Simon is looking for a young lady by the name of Thérèse, who apparently lives there. He wishes to marry her.’

  There was a sharp silence. ‘Does he, by God!’ For the first time, Alex seemed startled. ‘Mademoiselle Thérèse de Beaurain?’

  ‘Mademoiselle-’ Jane broke off. ‘Is that her other name? You know her?’

  ‘I know of her,’ Alex admitted. ‘She is the daughter of the late Vicomte de Beaurain, who lost his head in the Revolution. Her mother fled to England with her daughter when the child was very young. I imagine that she must be about twenty years of age now. Her mother is an invalid and Mademoiselle de Beaurain supports both of them on a pittance from sewing. How did Simon meet her?’

  ‘She was at the masquerade ball,’ Jane said, in a small voice. Suddenly Simon’s Thérèse had become a real person and had taken on her own character. Jane looked at Alex, troubled.

  ‘Simon saw her again at Vauxhall last night, and rushed off to try to speak to her. She was with the man in the striped waistcoat, the one who-’ She broke off. ‘Oh, I do hope that Simon knows what he is doing…I would not like to think that Miss de Beaurain is involved in something criminal…’

  ‘Do not worry,’ Alex spoke quietly. ‘As far as I know, Mademoiselle de Beaurain is quite innocent. She has nothing to reproach herself for except a stubborn pride which I understand has led to a rupture with the English branch of the family!’

  ‘Oh, how unfortunate!’ Jane’s sympathies were already thoroughly engaged with the young émigrée girl who had to struggle so hard to care for herself and her parent. ‘You mean that she has relatives who might help them?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, very respectable ones! Her mother is a distant cousin of General Sir John Huntington, who heard of their plight several years ago and summoned Thérèse de Beaurain to offer them a home.’ Alex smiled. ‘I only know of this because I heard him telling all and sundry of his kind condescension in offering a home to destitute relatives! Truth to tell, he was so patronising that I can only imagine he offended the girl mortally. Anyway, the whole ton was later regaled with the story of how he had had his generosity spurned and that the family could rot in hell for all he cared! Not a pretty tale!’

  Jane shivered. ‘So they have been left to make shift as best they can? How cruel!’

  ‘It seems very harsh, certainly. But if Simon can rescue her from all that-’ Alex shrugged. ‘But we are becoming distracted from the main point. I am relieved to know that there is so innocuous an explanation for tonight’s escapade, although I suppose finding Simon drunk outside his beloved’s house is a sign that his suit is not prospering!’

  ‘No,’ Jane said cautiously, ‘I believe that it is not!’ She took her courage in both hands. ‘But Simon’s misfortunes are not the main concern, are they, your Grace? It was only coincidence that brought him into contact with the man in the striped waistcoat-oh, I wish I knew his name, for to refer to him as such sounds so foolish! But he is clearly the one who is dangerous!’

  ‘His name is Samways,’ Alex said, stirring the fire to a fresh blaze, ‘and he is, as you have surmised, Miss Verey, a dangerous man. I do not know what led you to disbelieve my excuse that he was merely a common pickpocket. I thought I was a better liar than that!’

  Jane smiled faintly. ‘I am not really sure why I did not believe you, but-it was his demeanour, I suppose, and the fact that he did not look as though he intended to rob, but to kill.’ She shivered convulsively, despite the warmth of the fire. Looking up, she found that Alex was watching her with a thoughtful regard.

  ‘I suppose that you cannot tell me what this is all about,’ she finished, a little forlornly.

  ‘You suppose correctly, Miss Verey.’ Alex gave her a slight smile. ‘It really is safer that you do not know! Take comfort from the fact that Simon’s Thérèse is innocent and that her association with Samways is not a close one!’ He sighed. ‘It seems unfortunate that Simon should choose this of all times to visit Spitalfields! It is not a healthy place to be!’

  Jane had other fears. ‘Upon my word,’ she burst out, ‘you do not seem very concerned that someone wishes to murder you! One might almost believe that you encounter such situations every day!’

  Alex grinned. He got to his feet and stretched. Jane hastily averted her gaze.

  ‘You would be surprised, Miss Verey!’ he said easily. ‘Thank you for your help tonight. I regret that I cannot enlighten you on the reason for my interest and once again I must beg you to keep quiet about this. One day, perhaps, I will tell you why…’

  His gaze travelled over her, lingering on the soft hair tumbling about her shoulders and the slender curves of her body beneath the thin robe. Jane, who had been about to uncurl from the chair and stand up, kept very still. Suddenly there was an expression on Alex’s face that she did not understand, but it turned her throat dry and started her heart racing.

  ‘I must also thank you for your concern,’ Alex said slowly. His voice had dropped several tones. ‘I do believe that you are genuinely upset at the thought of someone sticking a knife in me!’

  ‘Of course it concerns me!’ Jane’s voice had risen, anxiety overriding her natural reticence. ‘A strange creature I should be if I took pleasure in thinking you stabbed to death by some dangerous criminal!’

  Alex put out a hand and pulled her to her feet. His touch lit something inside of Jane, something that made her tremble. They were standing very close and she could not tear her gaze away from his.

  ‘Even though we are in opposition?’ Alex queried softly. ‘You would still wish me no harm?’

  Jane cleared her throat. For some reason she was finding it very difficult to breathe. ‘I have never had any wish to be in opposition to you, your Grace.’

  Alex’s voice was caressing. ‘I do believe that we could be in the most perfect accord, Miss Verey.’

  His mouth was only inches away from her own and he was still holding her lightly, but with a touch that burned her blood with sensuous awareness. Yet only ten minutes before he had spoken of her in terms of the deepest scorn, called her deceitful and untrustworthy, and Jane was not about to forget that.

  She stepped back.

  ‘I collect that you mean we are both accomplished in dissimulation,’ she said coolly, covering the turbulence of her emotions with a strategic withdrawal. ‘I think that you should leave now, sir.’

  Jane opened the door and pointedly stood holding it for Alex to leave. He did not move. She felt his gaze, as powerful as a physical touch, searching her face.

  ‘Well,’ he said ruefully after a moment, ‘I suppose that I deserved that! I can only apologise for my remarks. I said it mainly to provoke you-’

  ‘Oh! That makes it much more acceptable then, sir!’

  Alex laughed, conceding the point. ‘We’ll talk about this again! Good night, Miss Verey.’

  The clock struck two. Jane took the candelabra in one hand almost as though it wa
s a shield. By its flickering light she could see that Henry Marchnight was loitering in the hall, but otherwise the house was dark and silent. Conscious of Henry’s thoughtful look resting on her still-pink face, Jane avoided his eyes and made a business of shepherding them towards the door. The night was fine and the moon hung low in the sky. Jane shivered a little.

  ‘Go back inside,’ Alex said, abruptly. ‘Harry and I will make all secure.’

  Henry bent forward and kissed her cheek and after a moment Alex followed suit, taking her hand and drawing her to him as his lips brushed her skin in the lightest of caresses. Jane, scurrying back to the sanctuary of her room with one hand unconsciously pressed to her cheek, reflected wryly that she would be the most envied girl in London if anyone found out. To have been kissed by both Harry Marchnight and the Duke of Delahaye! It was enough to make one swoon, and all in one evening, too! As she slipped between the chilled sheets, Jane paused long enough before sleep to wonder why one salutation had left her totally unmoved whilst the other felt as though it had been branded on her skin with fire.

  Chapter Eight

  It was Henry Marchnight, not Alex Delahaye, who called first in Portman Square on the following morning. Simon had not yet risen from his bed but the ladies were assembled in the parlour, Sophia and Lady Verey sewing placidly and Jane watching the clock and wondering at what hour any visitors would call. She jumped when the bell rang and her disappointment on seeing Henry rather than Alex was acute. Henry, a twinkle in his eye, came across to sit by her.

  ‘Your servant, Miss Verey. I hope that you are recovered from last night!’

  ‘Oh. Lord Henry, I daresay that I should not mention it, but I must thank you for your help in bringing Simon home,’ Lady Verey said eagerly. ‘A most unfortunate occurrence, but gentlemen must be allowed, I suppose…’

  Henry stretched out his long legs and gave her the smile that always worked on Dowagers. ‘A small transgression and very rarely committed, Lady Verey…’

  Lady Verey fluttered. ‘Of course! And he would come to no harm at his club-’

  ‘At his club!’ Henry’s gaze touched Jane’s innocent face briefly. ‘Of course!’

  ‘So good of you and Alexander Delahaye,’ Lady Verey burbled. ‘Such good friends!’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, but I beg you not to mention it to Delahaye-he is rather a reticent fellow!’

  Henry smiled at Jane again. ‘I see you have been singing our praises, Miss Verey!’

  Jane cast her eyes down modestly. ‘There was some speculation about last night’s activities, sir…I simply did my best to quash it. How fortunate that I heard the hack draw up and came down to see what was happening!’

  ‘Fortunate, indeed!’ Henry murmured. Under the cover of the refreshments being served he added, ‘I see you have no need of me to concoct a story, Miss Verey!’

  The door opened again and Alex Delahaye came in. Jane saw the infinitesimal nod that Henry gave him before Alex came across with easy grace to bow over Lady Verey’s hand and inquire of her health.

  ‘I am here to bring your formal invitation to Malladon,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Lady Eleanor had hoped to call herself, but she is slightly incommoded with a cold in the head. Oh, not enough to spoil your visit,’ he added, seeing Lady Verey’s look of concern. ‘I am sure she will be better directly! But as we were planning to travel on the morrow I did not wish to delay any longer. You will, I hope, be able to accept?’

  Jane saw that Lady Verey was fluttering and recognised it for a bad sign. Her mother was flustered, which meant that she was inordinately flattered by the invitation and would not dream of refusing.

  ‘Oh, your Grace…such condescension, we should be delighted…tomorrow, you say? Well, I dare say it can be arranged…’

  Alex’s eyes met Jane’s and she saw the wicked twinkle in them that said that her plans had been foiled. ‘I am so glad,’ he murmured.

  Jane had, in fact, almost forgotten the invitation to Malladon in the mystery that had happened the previous night. She had been too tired to consider it when she had got back to bed, but that morning she had lain awake for quite some time puzzling over the nature of the business that could have taken Henry and Alex to Spitalfields. Clearly they had been involved in something that they preferred to keep secret, but the thought that they might be entangled in criminal activities seemed ludicrous. It was far more likely, Jane thought as she sipped her tea, that they were working to foil some illegal enterprise. She had known for years in a vague sort of way that Henry Marchnight worked for the government, which led logically to the idea that Alex might too…

  ‘Will it still be convenient for your Grace to spare the time to host us at Malladon?’ she asked limpidly, her eyes innocent.

  ‘Oh, certainly, Miss Verey,’ Alex responded, the laughter lines deepening about his eyes. ‘I should not miss it for the world! Do not forget that Philip will also be there to squire you about!’

  This was another unwelcome reminder for Jane and she saw that Sophia, who had been very quiet that morning, looked flushed and unhappy. All in all, it was not going to be a comfortable trip.

  Malladon was only half a day’s drive from London, set in the lush Hertfordshire countryside. It was the least favoured of the Duke of Delahaye’s estates, for he considered it too close to the capital and the countryside too bland for his tastes.

  ‘Philip tells me that his brother prefers Hayenham to all his other establishments,’ Sophia had reported shyly to Jane as they packed their bags for the unexpected trip to the country. ‘It is a medieval castle on a wild northern cliff, Philip says, and the Duke locks himself up in there for months at a time! Only fancy!’ Sophia shivered with enjoyable fear. ‘It sounds quite Gothic! What a very odd man he is!’

  Jane, looking out of the carriage window as the verdant scenery sped past, reflected that it seemed very much in keeping with Alexander Delahaye’s character that he should prefer the untamed reaches of the North to more gentle climes. There was something about him that suggested, for all his eminent title and position, that he scorned the conventions of polite society. The elements of danger and restlessness were well hidden behind the veneer of authority and sophistication, but they were there nevertheless. Like Sophia, Jane shivered a little. She knew that she had pitted her wits against an opponent worthy of the name and that this unexpected invitation, seized on with such excitement by Lady Verey, had been the Duke’s way of raising the stakes in their game.

  Lady Verey had fallen asleep, lulled by the movement of the coach. Ahead of them, Lord Philip was driving Lady Eleanor with exemplary skill and care, whilst the Duke’s own phaeton headed the expedition, the fair Lady Dennery at his side. No one had had the indelicacy to refer to Lady Dennery’s presence in the party, but it had been an unwelcome one for all that. Lady Eleanor had set her lips tight in clear disapproval when the Duke had bowled up with his companion, and Lady Verey had worn the anxious look of a chaperon who knows that her innocent chicks are in danger. Jane’s own predominant feeling was one of jealousy, which she both despised and despaired of. It seemed that Alexander Delahaye was bringing out the worst in her in more ways than one.

  It was an oddly assorted party, Jane reflected. Simon had declined to join them, preferring to stay in Town and, she suspected, pursue his quest for Thérèse. Lady Eleanor had bemoaned the lack of a young man for Sophia, making Jane horribly aware that the intention was to throw herself and Philip together as much as possible. She had noticed that both Lady Eleanor and Lady Verey had started to bracket their names together as though it were the most natural thing imaginable. Sophia had also noticed and was looking ever more strained and upset, although she had not reproached her friend for the circumstance. Oh, dear, Jane thought, as they rumbled through a picturesque village and turned into a long driveway, this is not going to be at all pleasant!

  The others had just arrived as their carriage drew up on the gravel sweep, and Lady Dennery was intent on giving instruction to the harassed s
ervants over the care of her luggage.

  ‘You, there! Take this portmanteau! No, not like that, like this, you dolt!’

  Lord Philip was standing watching with a look akin to horror on his face and Jane, who still remembered his own churlish behaviour at Ambergate, was surprised to feel a certain sympathy. Unquestionably Lord Philip did not welcome this potential sister-in-law!

  Matters did not improve at dinner. There were only seven of them around the imposing polished table and Jane had been firmly placed next to Lord Philip whilst Sophia was acres away, next to the Duke. So cowed was she by his magnificent presence that she barely said two words and Jane noticed how Lady Dennery, on the Duke’s other side, took no more notice of Sophia than to bend a patronising smile on her every so often. Lady Dennery was saving all her attention for Alex, touching his sleeve with intimate little gestures, smiling into his eyes and hanging on his every word. It made Jane feel so sick that she was barely able to do justice to the excellent dinner. At her side, Lord Philip chewed moodily, spoke little and gazed fixedly at Sophia.

  Jane was up betimes the following morning. She had excused herself to bed immediately after dinner in order to avoid Lord Philip’s unwilling company and by the morning she was feeling very restless. It was a beautiful day. Throwing back the shutters, Jane could see the green parkland shimmering in the early sun and the glitter of a lake in the distance. She resolved on an early morning stroll.

  The house seemed silent as she slipped outside. It was a very pretty building, small but elegant, redbrick and foursquare. Jane stood on the drive to admire it, before taking a well-mown grassy track that cut across the park towards the lake.

  It seemed that she was not the only one up and about early that morning. As she emerged from the shadow of the trees on to the gravel path that circled the water, Jane saw a figure standing in the shade of the summer pavilion. Another moment helped her to identify it as Lord Philip Delahaye. This was surprising. It was very early and Lord Philip was renowned as a late riser, never up before midday. As Jane hesitated, he turned his head and saw her. For a second she saw the expression of unhappiness on his face, clear in the bright sunlight, before he schooled his features to indifference.