“It’s an honor, and one that is well deserved. Let my aide know where you are staying.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Robert saluted, turned as smartly on his heel as he could, and left the room. So he did have Miss Harrington to thank for the unexpected and unwanted honor. His scowl deepened as he made his way carefully down the steps and looked about for a hackney. After his meeting with Broughton he’d find out the truth from the lady herself.
Luckily, the driver knew exactly which building in Portland Square housed Fletchers and set Robert down right outside it. The interior looked much like any other gentlemen’s club he’d ever frequented, but rather less intimidating than Whites or Boodles. The members appeared a lot younger and rather less blue-blooded, which in his opinion was a blessing. Having served alongside a lot of bumbling aristocratic offspring in the army, he’d never had much patience for the arrogance of the nobility.
And now he was to become one of them....
A footman had him sign the guestbook and wait until Lord Broughton came and claimed him. He followed his old acquaintance through into a paneled room with a roaring fire and several seating areas where a man could choose to read the paper, converse with his friends, or play a hand of cards. Broughton sat in a large wing chair and Robert took the one opposite him. A waiter immediately appeared and they ordered their drinks and were assured that if they wished to eat, the club’s dining room was still open.
Robert toasted the other man and then drank his brandy, which was excellent.
“How did your meeting go?” Broughton asked.
“Well enough. I told the Lieutenant Colonel I was going to leave the regiment, and he took it in good part. Do you know who is the agent for selling commissions at the moment?”
“Yes, it’s Dagliesh. I’ll get his information for you.”
“Thank you. And how about yourself? What do you intend to do if you’re no longer in the army?”
“Take up my duties as my father’s heir.” Broughton’s mouth twisted. “Not that I see the old man much. He’s stationed in India at present as an ambassador to one of the minor royal courts. My mother’s been nagging me for months to settle down and secure the succession.”
“All worthy objectives,” Robert said diplomatically.
“And all fairly pointless.” Broughton sighed. “My real objective is to establish my reputation as a man of science.”
“And what exactly does that entail?”
“Using my mind instead of blindly following my family’s dictates for one. Learning about the new science and sharing my knowledge with the pioneers in their fields.”
“It sounds rather like going back to school to me.” Robert shuddered. “I intend to concentrate on managing my estate and making it profitable.”
Broughton grinned. “Well, to each his own. How long do you intend to stay in London?”
“I’ll be here for at least the next couple of weeks.”
“If you plan to settle down in the countryside, you can accompany me on my search for a suitable wife, and perhaps find one for yourself.”
“I’d rather not contemplate matrimony at this point.”
“Then perhaps you might just keep me company? I’d appreciate having a second opinion about my selection.”
“I’ll certainly do that, but I must warn you that my opinions are rather too forthright for most people.” Robert hesitated. Broughton’s matter-of-fact manner made him sound rather like he was about to pick a new horse at Tattersalls rather than a bride. “I have little to no understanding of the ton and the ramifications of choosing one young lady over another.”
“Which is exactly what I need. I’d rather have a military man by my side than anyone else.”
Robert put down his brandy glass. “Then if you insist, I’ll accompany you. I can hardly leave a fellow officer out in the open without adequate cover.”
He suspected he had weeks of dawdling his heels while he waited for his audience with the Prince Regent. Staying in Town would also give him the opportunity to see how the Harrington ladies and Sophia Giffin were dealing with London and perhaps reconnect with some of his old acquaintances.
“There is one young lady I rather like. She is remarkably forthright.”
He realized Broughton was still talking. “And who might that be?”
“Miss Chingford. Do you know of her?”
Robert took a deep breath. “Miss Penelope Chingford?”
“Yes.”
“Then I know her quite well. We were betrothed, but we mutually decided we wouldn’t suit.”
“Oh good Lord! What a remarkable coincidence!” Broughton’s smile faded. “She hasn’t mentioned you by name, but she did indicate that she’d been horribly let down by someone.”
“That would be me,” Robert said drily. “I had the temerity to be wounded and was no longer the fine physical specimen she required to appear at her side.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“She had a point. I have no desire to continue my career in the military, or become a leading light of the ton, so we definitely would not have suited. It was brave of her to see that.” He paused. “I’m sure she would be far happier with a man such as you.”
Broughton didn’t look convinced as he finished his brandy and then rose to his feet. “Shall we eat here? We can further discuss our plans. I have to escort my family to Almack’s this week.”
“I understand that it is still considered the best place to find an eligible mate.”
“Which is why the female members of my family insist I accompany them. At least if you come with me I can look forward to some decent conversation and maybe a hand of cards.”
Robert rose, too, and picked up his cane. “As long as you don’t require me to dance, Broughton, I am completely at your service.”
Chapter 3
Lucy tried not to stare too much at the other guests arriving at the ball, but it was rather difficult. She smoothed down the skirt of her amber silk gown and checked the neckline of her bodice. It was a new dress and she’d felt rather fashionable and daring until she’d seen what the other ladies were wearing.
“Come on, Lucy!”
Sophia and Mrs. Hathaway were already ahead of her, and she hurried to catch up. She spotted her uncle David and then her aunt, and headed toward them. It was hard to see Anna or Julia, who appeared to be surrounded by a crowd of young men.
Sophia elbowed her. “I knew Anna would cause a stir. I’ll wager she’s filled her dance card twice over.”
Lucy hoped so. Anna deserved every opportunity to marry successfully and well, not just because she was beautiful, but because of her sweet, loving nature.
“Ah, there you are, Lucy.” Her aunt smiled and beckoned her forward. “Anna was asking where you were. She and Julia have been very popular this evening.”
“Lucy!” Anna turned away from her group of admirers and came over to grasp her sister’s hands. “I was wondering what had become of you.”
“Sophia’s little dog, Hunter, was unwell, so we had to ensure he was settled before we were able to leave.”
“Oh dear, is he all right now?”
“He’s fine. We discovered he’d found Sophia’s box of toffees and had helped himself.” Lucy studied Anna’s flushed face. “You look happy and that gown is most becoming.”
Anna wore a white lace overdress with a pale pink satin slip underneath. The delicate lace also trimmed the bodice and the tiny puffed sleeves.
“Thank you.” Anna mock-curtsied and touched her throat. “Father lent me Mother’s pearls. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Indeed.” Lucy surveyed the packed ballroom and struggled to overcome a pang of jealousy. As far as she was aware, as the oldest daughter, the pearls had been left to her. She assumed her father had thought Anna would make better use of them.
Sophia had already attracted her own share of eager gentlemen around her while Mrs. Hathaway had taken a seat by the countess and was dee
p in conversation. Lucy smiled politely at a couple of the young men who were waiting for Anna to notice them, and then stiffened.
“Oh, good gracious, not her.”
“Who?” Anna asked.
It was too late to hide. Lucy braced herself as Miss Penelope Chingford, who was dressed in vibrant daffodil yellow silk, marched up to them.
“Miss Harrington? Miss Anna Harrington?”
“Miss Chingford. I hope you are well.” Lucy curtsied.
“As well as a woman who has been forced to return to the marriage mart by an uncaring man can be.”
“But I thought you broke off the betrothal, Miss Chingford? Doesn’t that make Major Kurland the injured party?”
“Not in the eyes of the ton.” Miss Chingford’s icy gaze swept over Anna and then returned to Lucy. “Excuse my bluntness, but how exactly did you get invited here? I didn’t realize that a country parson’s daughters were now considered eligible to receive vouchers for Almack’s.”
“But then you probably haven’t been introduced to our aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Clavelly. Let me remedy that immediately. Aunt?”
She performed the necessary introductions, aware that Miss Chingford was silently seething, and enjoying it far more than was proper. When she’d finished, Miss Chingford stalked off to speak to Julia, who was apparently an acquaintance of hers.
Lucy let her gaze wander again as the musicians began to tune their instruments. Two soldiers dressed in dark blue had just arrived and stood in the doorway talking to the hostess. What was it about a man in uniform that set a young lady’s heart fluttering? She was no longer young or particularly romantic, but even she was entranced by a well-turned-out military man.
The taller of the two men began to descend the stairs at a slow pace, one gloved hand wrapped around a walking stick.
“Oh my goodness,” Lucy whispered.
Across the dance floor, Major Kurland’s direct blue gaze met hers. The look on his face was one she was remarkably familiar with, and didn’t usually bode well. She unconsciously patted her hair. Did she look out of place? Was he going to tell her she should go home, accept her fate as an old maid, and be useful to him until he married some young chit and no longer needed her?
What on earth was wrong with her? He was hardly likely to berate her in the middle of a ballroom, or indeed care about any of the matters she had so foolishly imagined. He eventually reached her through the throng and bowed.
“Miss Harrington.”
Her awestruck gaze took in the gold braid cascading down the front of his uniform, the fur pelisse that swung from one shoulder, and the dark blue coat that matched his eyes.
“Major Kurland, you look magnificent,” she breathed.
He scowled at her. “Good Lord, don’t tell me you are one of those women who swoon at the sight of a uniform?”
Lucy hastily recollected herself. “Of course not, Major. One word out of your mouth would crush any illusions that I might have about you being some romantical hero.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because this is all your fault.”
“How so?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you know?”
“If I did I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?”
“Lucy, are you all right?” Aunt Jane was now beside her and staring at Robert with considerable interest. “Do you know this gentleman?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “Major, this is my aunt, the Countess of Clavelly.”
He saluted. “My apologies, my lady, for not introducing myself to you immediately. I’m Major Robert Kurland.”
“Kurland?” Aunt Jane turned to Lucy. “This is the wounded soldier Anna told me you nursed back to health?”
Lucy’s cheeks heated. “Hardly that, Aunt. Anna exaggerates somewhat.”
“Actually, Miss Anna speaks the truth,” Robert said. “Miss Harrington was essential to my recovery. I will always be in her debt.”
“I’m glad to hear that she was a comfort to you, Major.”
A compliment from Major Kurland? Lucy stood back and let her aunt make small talk while she attempted to gather her scattered senses. It was quite overwhelming to see the major in a London ballroom dressed in full uniform. And it was interesting to note that he could be quite charming when he wanted to be—at least to her aunt.
“What brings you to London, Major?” Aunt Jane finally asked the question that had been hovering on Lucy’s lips.
“Business with my regiment, my lady.” The major gestured at his cane. “As you see, I’m no longer fighting fit and have decided to resign my commission.”
“You came all the way to London just to do that?” Lucy interrupted.
The major’s enigmatic dark blue gaze rested on hers. “And other matters.” The musicians struck up the first chord of a dance and he looked around. “Am I detaining you? If you have a partner waiting I’ll come back after I’ve introduced myself to my friend Broughton’s family.”
“She does.” Aunt Jane turned to her husband. “David? Lucy is ready for you.” She smiled at the major. “Why don’t you come back and share supper with us? You can converse with dear Lucy during the preceding supper dance. She hasn’t been given permission to waltz by the patronesses yet, so she would have to sit it out anyway.”
“I’ll do that.” Major Kurland saluted.
The earl came forward, spent a moment being introduced, and then led Lucy inexorably away onto the dance floor. She tried to see what the major was doing, but it proved impossible to see him and concentrate on the intricacies of the dance.
“You didn’t tell us you already had an admirer, Lucy.”
She blinked at her uncle. “You mean Major Kurland? Oh no, he’s nothing of the sort. He’s simply a close neighbor and a good friend of the family.”
“He seemed rather keen to speak to you, my dear. That denotes an interest you cannot deny.”
“I’ve been helping him with his household while he was injured. He probably has some questions as to that. I knew he’d never manage everything on his own.”
He squeezed her hand. “Mayhap he missed your help more than he thought he would, eh? They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Not in this case, sir,” Lucy said firmly. “If he wishes to speak to me it’s more likely that he considers me at fault for something. He is quite tenacious when riled.”
The music ended and she sank into a deep curtsy and allowed her uncle to lead her back to their seats. It would be at least an hour or so before the supper dance. She proposed to put Major Kurland out of her mind until she actually had to face him. To her surprise, one of the older men clustered around Anna turned and smiled.
“Miss Harrington? May I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
She remembered her aunt introducing the man and curtsied. He was a widower with two young children on the lookout for a new wife. “Yes, Mr. Stanford. That would be delightful.”
Avoiding the dancers as best he could, Robert made his slow way over to Broughton’s side of the ballroom. Lucy danced by with her uncle and he found himself stopping to study her oblivious face. She looked remarkably happy, and quite unlike herself in the fashionable ball gown with its puffed sleeves and low-cut bodice. Not that she looked any different from the other young ladies. It was just that he wasn’t used to seeing her so uncovered.
“Kurland.”
Broughton was waving at him. His friend stood with a group of people who all bore a striking resemblance to him.
“May I introduce my grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Broughton, my mother, the current countess, and my younger brother, Oliver?”
Robert saluted. “Major Robert Kurland at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
The countess smiled and held out her hand to be kissed. She was a handsome woman with the same dark coloring as her oldest son. “Major, a pleasure. James has told us so much about you.”
Robert kissed her fingers and then turned to the dowag
er, who was regarding him with all the warmth of a French soldier at the end of a bayonet. Her hair was white and the family nose was the most prominent feature on her angular, sunken face. She pointed at his cane.
“Are you permanently lame, Major?”
“It’s highly likely, my lady. It’s been almost two years since my accident. I’ve yet to recover full use of my leg and I’m about to sell my commission.”
“So, I believe, is my grandson, although he has much less of a reason for doing so.”
Broughton’s smile was tight. “We’ve already discussed this, Grandmother. I wish to be closer to home.”
She snorted. “Like a crow hanging around waiting to pick the carrion from this family’s bones.”
The countess cleared her throat. “Are you staying in London for long, Major?”
“I’ll be here for a few weeks. I haven’t been up to Town for years, and there are several business matters awaiting my attention.”
The countess glanced up at her eldest son. “Perhaps you would like to invite the major to share our accommodation at the town house? He would be far more comfortable with us than at a hotel.”
“There’s no need, my lady, I—”
The dowager poked him with her ebony-handled stick. “Come and stay with us, young man. Perhaps you can persuade my grandson to remain in his current position and leave the running of the household to me.”
“I—”
Broughton stepped in front of his grandmother. “Did you say that you had some acquaintances you wished me to meet, Kurland?”
“Indeed.” Robert smiled at the ladies. “A pleasure to meet you all.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Broughton said shortly. “My grandmother is not known for the gentleness of her tongue.”
A characteristic that many of Broughton’s contemporaries would recognize as having come directly down to the lieutenant.
“The previous generation were always rather more forthright with their opinions than our own. She didn’t discompose me in the least.”
Broughton sighed. “She certainly is an original. And while my father is away she considers herself in charge of the family, which is why she isn’t anxious for my return. She doesn’t approve of my plans to study the sciences. She’d rather I stayed in the army and killed indiscriminately for a living.”
Death Comes to London Page 3