The Notorious Lord Havergal

by Joan Smith

  “He hasn’t the wits to come up with a new twist, poor lad. He is a follower, but insofar as squandering blunt and womanizing goes, they are all cut from the same bolt. The only difference is that we taxpayers must pay the prince’s baker, whereas Havergal and Crymont foot their own bills. It is nothing to us, after all, how they wish to spend their own money. I buy what I wish and ask no one’s permission.”

  “But you don’t waste your money, Mr. Norton. Except perhaps on that Chester White,” she added.

  “It is a vexation for you, looking after Havergal’s legacy,” he conceded. “I don’t know why you don’t just turn the trust over to his papa. It is clear old Cauleigh holds a tight set of reins. He would not let the lad have his way with the money.”

  This struck Lettie as a sound idea. She doubted it was his father Havergal had in mind as a replacement when he suggested she quit the trust, and it gave her some satisfaction to outwit him in this way. Why should she be pestered when Havergal was nothing to her? Any hope of adding luster to her own family by the connection was gone. She had no desire to see him again, she would not let Tom near the man, so why continue with the unpleasant job?

  The next morning, she wrote a short note to Lord Cauleigh, expressing the sentiment that handling Sir Horace’s legacy had become burdensome, and at Lord Havergal’s suggestion she wished to terminate it. Who more logical than Lord Cauleigh himself, who already had charge of the majority of Havergal’s monies, to take over?

  Lord Cauleigh received the note and pondered over it. He had been given a high opinion of Miss Beddoes from his Cousin Horace. What had Havergal done to upset her? Got himself into debt, very likely, and tried to get hold of that twenty-five thousand pounds. It was not to be thought of. Lord Cauleigh usually made one foray to London each spring, to visit his old friends and catch up with what was going forward at the House of Lords. He decided to make the visit before replying to Miss Beddoes.

  He was agreeably surprised to find his son not only sober and dining at home, but expressing the intention of attending the opening do at Almack’s that evening. Havergal looked particularly well. The clear eye and healthy visage across the table from him held no suggestion of excessive drinking or carousing.

  “How are you fixed for money, Jacob?” he inquired warily.

  “I’m fine, Papa.” His son smiled. “In fact, I have sold off a few of my surfeit horses and would like you to accept five hundred pounds for the Cauleigh Orphanage. I hope to give you another five hundred next quarter day.”

  “Indeed!” his father exclaimed, shocked. “It seems you have turned over a new leaf. I am very happy to hear it.”

  “I have decided it is time to settle down, Papa. I am thinking of marrying and would like to ask your opinion as to a suitable bride. Perhaps you will accompany me to Almack’s this evening?”

  This sounded so unlike his son that Cauleigh could only stare. “Indeed!” he said, and felt a horrible foreboding of disaster. The lad was deeply dipped and was looking about for a fortune to marry.

  “I trust this five hundred you speak of did not come from post-obits, Jacob?”

  His son looked up, startled. “Why no, Papa. I told you, I sold off some of my horses.”

  “Aye, I heard what you said,” his father replied, unconvinced. “I also know that you have been pestering poor Miss Beddoes for money. I have had a note from her.”

  “What!” Havergal’s face turned pink, and his eyes sparkled angrily. “I don’t see why she had to pester you about that. What—what did she say?” he asked warily. It seemed hard that his old sins should be thrown in his face just when he had undertaken a serious reformation.

  “She wishes me to take over the handling of Horace’s legacy. I can only conclude you have been importuning her for funds. In fact, I know you have been talking to her.”

  Havergal’s jaws clenched. So she had gone running to tattle to his father. Just what he might have expected! “You must not believe everything the lady says, Papa. There were extenuating circumstances.”

  “She says you expressed the notion of her giving up the handling of the trust, and whatever you have done, she is eager to be rid of you. Would you have me believe Miss Beddoes is untruthful?”

  “I may have expressed the idea in the heat of argument.”

  His father’s brow darkened. “What did you find to argue about? Miss Beddoes has behaved scrupulously in this entire matter. She was not at all eager to undertake the job.”

  “It had little to do with the money, actually.”

  “Then perhaps you will tell me what it had to do with?”

  “I would prefer not to, Papa,” he said, and regretted he had laid himself open to the question. Miss Beddoes had not given him away, then,

  “I trust you did not make improper advances to the lady?”

  “To Miss Beddoes!” he exclaimed, staring in horror. “I am not so brave, Papa.”

  Lord Cauleigh assumed a serving wench had been led astray, and said angrily, “If you cannot behave like a gentleman, Jacob, I beg you will not intrude yourself into polite households. Have some concern for your family’s reputation if you have none for your own."

  Havergal clamped his lips and swallowed the name, Crymont. It wasn’t all the duke’s fault. He didn’t have to go to the inn. “Nothing of that sort occurred at Laurel Hall,” he said stiffly. That was true in word if not in spirit. All the trouble had occurred at the inn and outside Miss Beddoes’s.

  “I expect you are still rattling around town with Crymont’s set” was Lord Cauleigh’s next conversational effort after he had finished his soup.

  “Very little, Papa. I only meet him by chance occasionally, for he goes about a good deal, you know.”

  “Thank God for that! The lad will run through one of the finest fortunes in the country. I would dislike my son to accompany him on that journey. Conceited popinjay! What was the meaning of that squib, showing him eating his hat? Some silly wager, I daresay.”

  The wager sounded so excessively silly that Havergal was ashamed to state it. “As I said, I am seeing less of Crymont. I am not up on his latest follies.”

  Over a plate of turbot in white sauce, the subject of Horace’s legacy arose again. “About Miss Bed-does, Papa, will you take over the trust?” Havergal inquired.

  “If you wish, but it will do you no good. You will not find me a softer touch than Miss Beddoes.”

  “No, I do not wish it,” Havergal said thoughtfully. He wanted to fulfill his proud boast and not ask Miss Lettie for money again. How would she know he had reformed if she was not in charge of the trust? He wanted to show her he was not so lost as she believed. Some irrevocable regret lingered at the back of his mind that she had such a poor opinion of him. He had not behaved as a gentleman should.

  “I won’t have you annoying the lady, Jacob. You must promise me you will not be pestering her for interest before it is due.”

  “I have no intention of pestering her.”

  “I shall ask her to notify me if you do."

  Havergal gave an angry glare, but as the meal progressed, he decided that cut was well deserved. He had failed to live up to his promises before now. A fine state of affairs when a man’s own father couldn’t believe him!

  “Have you decided about Almack’s, Papa?”

  “Yes, I shall accompany you. If you are serious about marriage, we must have a look at the market. Lord Dunstan’s daughter is making her bows. A good dowry there. Thirty-five thousand, I hear.”

  Havergal knew as soon as the name was out that he was not interested in marrying Lady Anne, not if she had thirty-five million pounds.

  They proceeded to Almack’s after dinner, suitably attired in knee breeches, white cravats, and chapeau bras. Havergal feared he was going to be barred from entering. Mrs. Drummond Burrell’s face froze implacably and did not defrost until Lord Cauleigh stepped forward. Havergal skated in on his father’s coattails.

  “You are aware, Lord Havergal, that gambli
ng is held at a minimum, and only orgeat is served,” she said coldly.

  “I have an excellent memory, ma’am,” he assured her.

  “It is not your memory that concerns me,” she said, and glided away.

  A few other ladies besides Lady Anne were brought forward for inspection. Miss Heatherington had a prettier face, but a smaller dot and an annoying habit of agreeing with every word uttered, no matter how inane. Havergal thought of Glaucon and inevitably of Miss Beddoes. No excess of agreement in that quarter! How the shrew liked to argue. The only two ladies Havergal really found interesting were a dashing widow encumbered with two children and a heavy burden of debt, and Lady Selden, who possessed great conversational skills, a lively countenance, and a perfectly healthy young husband. He had always preferred the conversation of older ladies. Miss Beddoes had been conversable....

  “What brings you here, Havergal?” Lady Selden asked archly. “Has Papa lowered the ax? Marry, or you are cut off?”

  “You mistake the matter, ma’am. It is I who have brought Papa.”

  She laughed merrily. “Yes, and it is the heat that brings the sun. Come now, confess. What heinous impropriety have you indulged in that your father is riding herd on you, rogue? I am not easily shocked. It must be something really hot if the journals are afraid to touch it.”

  “I am not involved in any heinous impropriety! I don’t think I care for your choice of words, Countess.”

  She looked offended. “This is something new, to see Havergal on his high horse! I had not realized you were capable of being shocked.”

  “You make me sound like a—a rake, or a wastrel!”

  “Only because you usually behave like one.” She laughed. “Come now, don’t go sanctimonious on us. You were used to be more amusing.”

  Is that what he had sunk to, something to amuse the ton? Like a monkey, or the village innocent, or a freak. Every lady he spoke to expressed astonishment to see him at this sedate do. When had his reputation become so scarlet? He undertook to repair it by dancing with all the antidotes and two of the patronesses, and had a dreadful evening.

  But he felt he deserved it and took a sort of painful pleasure in paying for his crimes. Let society see he was no longer their toy, someone to set them laughing and pointing. Like any reformed rake, he became quite censorious in his outlook and glared at those who left early to go on to livelier dos.

  “We’re off to Brook’s, Havergal. Interested in joining us?” a friend asked. Mr. Barton was one of the year’s leading Corinthians.

  “No, I am staying till the end.”

  “We’ll make your apologies. I daresay you will not be making a long visit in town,” Barton commiserated.

  Fools! Going to squander their money. He knew that Barton was playing on tick at Brook’s, and how did he hope to pay up without selling his estate? The man was mad.

  He was up early in the morning for a ride in the park, and when he returned, his father was just leaving for the House.

  “Is something important being discussed that you have come to town to attend?” Havergal asked.

  His father said, “I know you do not see fit to exercise the privilege of attending the sessions at the House, Jacob, but I had hoped you at least read what is afoot in your own country. Mills and factories shutting down because of tariff restrictions on our goods, hundreds of thousands of discharged soldiers looking for work, and the heavy taxes levied to pay for Napoleon’s war making investment difficult—yes, I would say something important will be discussed. How to keep our population from starving to death! I ought to be attending full time, but one of us must keep an eye on affairs at home. I hope you enjoyed your ride in the park.”

  Lord Cauleigh clamped his curled beaver on his head and left. Havergal went to the saloon and sank into a comfortable sofa. There was no pleasing Papa! And at the back of his mind, he felt there was no pleasing Miss Lettie either. Just so would she have ripped up at him. Damn, he was leaving off all his old bad habits. What did they expect?

  His father obviously expected he should waste these beautiful spring days sitting on a hard chair at Whitehall. Or had there been a hint in there that he ought to be at the Willows, handling their own estate? Papa was getting a bit old for it, of course. It was a large estate. Damn, what use would he be at home? He knew nothing of farming. And nothing of politics either. He hadn’t seen any signs of this poverty his father spoke of.

  He lifted the journal his father had been reading and glanced through it. It all seemed to be true. He read harrowing tales of thousands of ex-soldiers starving. There were stories of riotous meetings in the provinces—Manchester, Littleport, Nottingham. It was bound to spread to London. Visions of a revolution along the lines of the recent French Revolution reeled in his head. When had all this begun? Why had no one told him? He dashed to the door and called for his carriage. His father was astonished and gratified to see Havergal enter the House an hour later.

  Something had awakened the lad’s conscience. Nothing was as likely to have done it as a lady. Cauleigh tugged at his chin, wondering who the lady could be. Perhaps Miss Beddoes knew something about this. He would drop by Laurel Hall on his way home and have a word with her.

  Chapter Ten

  In Ashford, there was a fire at the vicarage, which cast the memory of Havergal and the duke into limbo. Like everyone else, Lettie and Violet drove into the village the next day to offer help and see the ruins, not necessarily in that order. When they returned, they were told a gentleman was waiting to see them.

  Lettie found it hard to believe that the quiet, well-bred, harried, and really not at all handsome lord sitting in her saloon could be Havergal’s papa. How had this austere gentleman given birth to such a comet as Havergal? It surpassed all understanding.

  “Was there any particular reason why you wish to be rid of the trust, Miss Beddoes?” he inquired, after he had been given a glass of wine, and the purpose of his visit was revealed.

  “The idea came from your son. It struck me as a good one.”

  “But why? I cannot think the quarterly writing of a check is what distresses you. Come now, tell the truth. I am the lad’s father. What has he done?”

  Loath as she was to reveal Havergal’s sins, Lettie knew some excuse must be given. She said vaguely, “Our correspondence was more frequent than that, Lord Cauleigh. Havergal often requests advances that are not in keeping with your cousin Horace’s intentions. He can be quite insistent.”

  “I know it well,” he admitted. “He was used to harass me in the same way, till I put my foot down. You have only to give him a categorical no, and that will be the end of it.”

  “I believe I did that the last time.”

  “Has he bothered you since?”

  “No, but that was only ten days ago. I have no doubt--”

  “I believe you may be mistaken. Jacob—Havergal—has turned over a new leaf. He has left off seeing a certain set of wild bucks and taken his seat in the House. That will keep him out of mischief while he is in town, and at the Season’s close, he tells me he plans to come to Willow Hall.”

  “Do you believe this improvement will last?” she asked bluntly.

  “I do, for I believe there is a lady at the bottom of it. He mentioned marriage, yet each lady I brought forth was rejected. It is my belief that he has already made up his mind, and it is for her that he is reforming. Jacob was always more easily led by a lady than anyone else. His mama’s influence— they were close. The same warm, excitable temper and good looks, but she knew how to handle him. It was when she died that he went to the bad. Pity. If the match he has in his eye is a lady of character, I expect she turned him off, and he is out to show her he can be as upstanding as the next fellow. Why else would he go to Almack’s? It is my intention to encourage this liaison if the lady is even so much as genteel.”

  Lettie listened with keen interest and just a little heaviness of the heart. So Havergal was reforming to please a lady. Who could she be? She must be som
e Incomparable to tame that rake. “What has that to do with my keeping the trust?” she asked.

  “Only that I do not think Havergal will bother you much in the future. I am pretty busy, between Willow Hall and the House, and the change would involve meetings with lawyers and a deal of paperwork. It will only be for two and a half years more.”

  Lettie considered it a moment and took her decision. It seemed hard to refuse this tired old man. “Very well, if you wish it, Lord Cauleigh, I’ll give it another try.”

  “You are very obliging, ma’am. Before I leave, there is just one other thing that mystifies me. This hypothetical lady, would you have any idea who she might be? Jacob does not visit her in London. I thought the trip to Almack’s must be to see her, but if so, she was not there. I know he visited you recently. Did he meet some lady hereabouts? Naturally, I am curious to learn what I can of her background.”

  “He met no ladies here except myself and my companion, Miss FitzSimmons,” she replied, nodding to Violet, who listened with wide eyes to the whole.

  “You do not think it could be Miss Hardy, Miss Devereau’s friend!” Violet exclaimed. “Oh dear. That would never do.”

  “Is there something amiss with the lady?” Lord Cauleigh asked eagerly.

  “The women Miss FitzSimmons speaks of are not ladies, milord,” Lettie said, pink with embarrassment.

  “Ah! Then we can rule them out. Jacob’s character is not all one could wish, but he is not an utter fool. He would never offer for a lightskirt. Perhaps I am mistaken in thinking a lady is involved.”

  “The only ladies he met were Miss Beddoes and myself,” Violet repeated.

  Cauleigh examined them, Violet first, then Miss Beddoes. A question formed in his mind. Miss Bed-does? A little old, but then Jacob had never really cared for debs. And why had Jacob not wanted Miss Beddoes to give up the trust? That was odd. She was not a bad-looking woman. A little stiff-rumped for Jacob, but there was no saying.

  “Perhaps it is one of you ladies he has in his eye,” he said, making it a joke, but watching Lettie closely. He saw the color flood her cheeks, and his interest soared.