Lord Humphrey (Sons of the Marquess Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  “We must tell him,” Rosemary said. “He cannot go on believing me to be the rich Miss Blythe.”

  Hortensia sighed, making no answer.

  “And there is Lord Humphrey, too,” Rosemary said. “You like him, I know you do, for I have seen how you look when you speak of him, and if he knew how rich you are—”

  “I do not think—”

  “It would be perfect,” Rosemary said, spinning round on the dressing stool to face Hortensia, her face alight with excitement. “If we confess, you can marry Lord Humphrey, and I can marry Lord Kilbraith, and everyone would be happy.”

  Hortensia gave a tight little smile. Yes, it would be perfect! But she had scarcely dared to think about such possibilities herself. She had seen the way Lord Humphrey looked at her sometimes, but was that just admiration for her riding skills or her ability at cards, pursuits which he enjoyed too? Surely he could have no admiration for her as a woman, for who could, plain as she was? Could he? Was it possible? Her heart whispered that it must be so, for why else spend so much time in her company, and with such apparent pleasure? Why give her his own horse to ride? That was not mere gentlemanly chivalry. And he knew nothing of her fortune, so his attention must be disinterested. Was it possible that he could love her for herself, not caring about her fortune? But she dared not hope for such joy. She had had such hopes before, and been disappointed.

  “I do not think it would work out quite as perfectly as you imagine,” Hortensia said. “Here is what we shall do. Let us wait for a few days, to see how things go on with Lord Kilbraith. If matters become serious, then we shall tell him everything, I promise you. If not… no, do not look so distraught, for who knows what may happen? We must consider all possibilities, dearest. If it comes to nothing, then we may leave here at the end of our month undiscovered, and I daresay we shall not meet the Marfords again, so it will not matter.”

  Rosemary nodded, too used to Hortensia deciding everything to argue with her.

  But when Hortensia had seen her friend settled in bed, and had returned to her own room, she sat for a very long time at the window, gazing down into the kitchen court below, a faint scent of honeysuckle and lavender wafting up to her. Her thoughts were not on plants or the beauty of the night sky or even, as might be supposed, on the problem of Rosemary and Lord Kilbraith. Instead her mind was full of a man who let her ride his finest horse, who taught her to play card games to his own level, a man who noticed her, as no one else in that crowded house had. And a man who, she had to admit, was charming and handsome and all that she could desire, with a pair of smiling eyes which set her stomach fluttering as if it were full of butterflies. If only she could have him… If only…

  ~~~~~

  Humphrey was far too unsettled to sleep. His thoughts bounced around, without an ounce of sense to any of them. First he wondered about Miss Blythe and Kilbraith — could they really fall in love so abruptly? Would they wake tomorrow to think better of it? And yet — what could be more fitting than that a pretty and accomplished young lady should marry an eligible nobleman? Her poverty — if she were indeed impoverished — only made the possibility the more romantic. Yet Humphrey could not be easy about it, all the same. Kilbraith might fall out of love as easily as he fell into it, especially if he found out that his beloved had deceived him.

  Then there was Miss Quayle, whose wealth — if she were indeed wealthy — would resolve Humphrey’s difficulties while also bringing him a wife he could truly love. Was he in love with her already? He dared not be, for he could not afford a poor wife, yet nor could he court two seemingly wealthy women in the same month. It was impossible, and the worst of it was that she would suit him admirably. If only he could have her… If only…

  11: An Outing Is Planned

  Humphrey woke to the sudden realisation that, so long as the two ladies’ deception continued, he need make no adjustments to his behaviour. Indeed, it would be thought odd if he were to do so. And if all was revealed, why, then he would make another plan and allow the dice to fall as they may. There was an excitement in it, knowing, or at least suspecting, the secret behind the two ladies and having not the least idea where it would all end up. It was like a good hunting day, following the hounds wherever they went, no matter how high the obstacles to be jumped, and having no greater ambition than not to find oneself head first in the mud. And if it went badly, as was always possible — well, no point thinking about hypothetical futures.

  So when he met Connie at the breakfast table, he was in mellow mood.

  “Humphrey!” she cried. “Just the person I need. I am planning an outing to Branksford Abbey—”

  “Oh no!” he said. “Connie, it always rains, you know that. How many times have you attempted this? And it always rains!”

  “It will not rain this year. The weather is set fair, Harris and Lester agree for once. Shall you come? The ladies are all very keen, but I need a few more gentlemen.”

  “Must I?” he said, pulling a face. “Ruined abbeys are not very appealing.”

  “It would be a very pleasant outing in your curricle, you must agree.”

  That certainly made a difference. “Hmm. It is time I stretched the greys’ legs a little.”

  “Quite so,” she said, pressing home her advantage. “You might invite Miss Blythe to accompany you. If you take your groom, it would be quite unexceptional.”

  But Miss Blythe did not come down to breakfast, and by the time Humphrey met up with her again, just before dinner, his invitation was met with blushes and a stammered refusal. Lord Kilbraith, it seemed, had secured the lady’s company already, with Lady Hardy and Merton taking the remaining seats in his carriage.

  Humphrey accepted this with outward composure, but excitement rushed through him. Now he was free to solicit Miss Quayle instead, as his heart wished. Instantly he sought her out in her accustomed quiet corner of the drawing room.

  “Shall you go to Branksford Abbey?” he began, too keen to secure her company to be subtle.

  “Oh, I think not.”

  Relief. At least Julius had not got ahead of him. “It is a very fine ruin. Quite one of the best ruins in Yorkshire, I believe.”

  She shot him an amused glance. “Very tempting, but I think I must still refuse.”

  “It is a very pleasant drive in my curricle, and—”

  “You are very kind, Lord Humphrey, but—”

  “—I am sure you would enjoy driving my greys.”

  “Oh!” Her squeak of astonishment caused heads to turn. She clapped her hands to her mouth, as if to suppress any further outbreaks, but her eyes were round. “Truly?” she whispered, when she had got her voice under control.

  “Truly.”

  “You do not feel that it would wound your masculine pride to be driven by a woman?”

  He laughed at that. “I think it would increase my consequence greatly to be driven about the countryside by a stylish lady who is an excellent whip. I look forward to tooling through the village quite at my ease, bowing and waving to all my acquaintance in the most casual manner, which I cannot do half so well if I am managing reins and whip and trying to avoid the pig farmer’s cart. I assume you are an excellent whip, Miss Quayle? Having seen your competence on horseback, I am tolerably certain of it.”

  “In India I was accounted so, yes, but I have not yet tested my skills on English roads. Oh, yes please! I should like of all things to drive your greys. You are the most generous of men, Lord Humphrey. I cannot think of anyone else who would hand over their precious cattle to a stranger in this way. Lord Augustus would not, I wager!”

  “Absolutely not! No one drives one of Gus’s teams but Gus himself. His riding mounts, yes, he is not so close-fisted with those, but never his precious matched pairs. He once called a fellow out who had the temerity merely to ask if he might try the bays. Carrbridge would not give you his curricle either — he would be terrified that you would overturn and injure yourself. As for Reggie, it would never occur to him that a lad
y would ever want to drive, even though his sister does. Now Monty is so sweet-natured that he would let anyone do anything, but he has never in his life owned anything faster than a hedgehog. He will be ideally situated as clergyman, for he will be able to drive everywhere at walking pace in a gig. And Gil—” He stopped, frowning. “Gil would let you do it for a lark, and then provoke the horses until you ended up in a ditch with a broken head. Miss Quayle, you must never, ever go driving with Gil, do you hear me? He is wild beyond all sense, sometimes.”

  “I am not likely to have the opportunity,” she said gently. “Lord Gilbert is not here, and I shall be gone in a few days.”

  Her words were like an arrow through Humphrey’s heart. A few days! He had grown so easy in her company, he had quite forgotten her visit was almost at an end. And then what was he to do? It was unthinkable to lose her now, quite intolerable. And that was the point at which he knew, beyond the faintest shadow of doubt, that his heart was irretrievably lost.

  ~~~~~

  The excursion to Branksford Abbey was just the sort of outing most calculated to bore Humphrey to tears. Thirty-five people were to be assembled, squeezed into an array of equipages and driven at a funereal pace on bad roads. The speed was dictated by Aunt Patience and Aunt Agnes, who agreed that walking pace was the only sensible rate of progress for any conveyance, having due consideration for the comfort, security and rank of the occupants. The two disagreed about almost everything, and if one were to say the air was too hot, the other would be sure to assert that in fact it was too cold. But on this single point, they were of one mind, and therefore the carriages must proceed in stately fashion, so that all might arrive in good order at their destination, and every urchin and farmer might have ample opportunity to ogle them as they passed by.

  As if this were not desperate enough for a man for whom anything less than breakneck speed is mere dawdling, there would be hours of sitting about while the ladies worried about the dampness of the grass, and whether it would rain, and the encroaching habits of bees and wasps. On one such occasion, the sighting of a cow caused an outbreak of screaming.

  Then there would be the slow procession home, and inevitably one or other of the carriages would break something, or a horse would go lame, and there would be disruption and upset and general inconvenience, and like as not Humphrey would be left at the side of the road to await the arrival of the farrier or wheelwright. It was all too tedious for words.

  But this present outing promised Humphrey far better entertainment. Even at the slow pace dictated by the aunts, the pleasure of Miss Quayle’s company outweighed every other nuisance. He would have a whole day at her side, and he could scarcely imagine at that moment any greater delight. In a few days, she would be gone from his life for ever, but there was no need at all to think of that yet. He would worry about that in the future, for today he was determined to be happy.

  He hummed as he dressed that morning, and made no remonstrance when Billings took several attempts to fix his cravat to the valet’s satisfaction. Humphrey chose his clothes with care and liked to appear to advantage, but he normally grew impatient at too much time wasted in front of the looking glass. Today, unaccountably, he wished to look his best, and while Billings fussed over him, Humphrey speculated pleasurably on what sort of carriage dress Miss Quayle might adopt for the occasion. One of her plain companion’s gowns, or something as stylish as her riding habit?

  Miss Quayle did not appear for the early breakfast enjoyed by most of the gentlemen, so it was not until the excursion party assembled in the entrance hall that Humphrey had his curiosity satisfied. He had positioned himself in a dark corner, half hidden by a Chinese urn, from which station he could watch the ladies descend the stairs, the aunts ponderously and the Miss Whittletons with girlish skips and many giggles. Then Connie and Harriet, laughing at some shared joke, with Carrbridge just behind them. And then—

  A hush fell on the assembly. Two pairs of elegant boots appeared on the half landing, turning, stopping, as if to be admired. Two feet were carefully placed on the next stair and then the next, revealing the swirling hems of their gowns. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two ladies descended, Miss Blythe and Miss Quayle, arm in arm, united in friendship and in fashion. For Miss Quayle was, if anything, the more elegantly attired of the two. While Miss Blythe kept to the pale muslin appropriate for her age, Miss Quayle wore a rich ruby pelisse and matching hat of such style that even Humphrey, no expert on female attire, knew it must have cost a fortune. It was the first time she had appeared in company clad as the lady she undoubtedly was, and every head was turned her way.

  By the time the pair had reached the level of the hall, Lord Kilbraith had rushed forward to claim Miss Blythe and Julius Whittleton, eyes positively bulging, was offering his arm to Miss Quayle. She smiled, shook her head, demurred. Humphrey knew his cue — stepping out of his hiding place, he crossed the hall to her side.

  “Miss Quayle is to drive with me, Julius,” he murmured.

  Julius spluttered, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before he wisely chose to keep silent, merely bowing and withdrawing with as much dignity as he could muster.

  Humphrey had no attention to spare for him, his gaze drawn to those lustrous dark eyes that gleamed with mischief.

  “Miss Quayle,” he murmured, holding his arm for her. “Shall we go outside to await the carriages?”

  “Lord Humphrey,” she said, curtsying demurely, then lifting her head to reveal a wide grin. Such inviting lips she had, and despite his height, she was almost near enough to kiss…

  Then she lowered her head and took his arm and, mesmerised, he led her past the silently watching throng, past the footmen swinging open the doors, and down the broad steps to the drive. Several carriages waited there already, as well as two barouches and the first of the curricles. The horses tossed their heads impatiently as grooms did their best to hold them steady, while footmen rushed about with hot bricks and rugs, opening doors, unfolding steps, rushing back to assist Uncle Thomas and Aunt Theodosia out of the house and into their carriage.

  Just then, Humphrey’s curricle bowled round the corner from the stable court with Tom at the reins.

  “Ah!” Miss Quayle said. Humphrey thought her smile could not stretch any wider, yet it did.

  “Your conveyance, madam,” he said, with a little bow. “May I assist you aboard?”

  “Thank you, but I can manage.” And with that she nimbly climbed up onto the seat and took the reins from Tom, who jumped down to hold the horses’ heads. Turning to Humphrey, she said, “Will you join me, my lord?”

  That smile again! If she had asked him to dance a reel instead, he suspected he would have obeyed her just as readily. He took his seat beside her, and folded his arms. “We shall have a while to wait, I daresay. It always takes forever to get the aunts settled.”

  “Must we stay?” She turned those great eyes on him in entreaty. “The horses are fresh and I cannot wait to get onto the road. Would it be a great breach of protocol for us to go on ahead?”

  Humphrey did not hesitate. “Yes, but I dare you to do it anyway.”

  She burst into laughter. “Tom, stand away!” Then with a snick of the whip, she set the curricle into motion, Tom leapt up behind and they were bowling away down the drive, leaving astonishment and pointing fingers in their dust.

  ~~~~~

  Hortensia could not suppress a beaming grin. Worse than that, she was actually laughing in delight. Oh, the pleasure of having two fine horses at her command, and a splendid vehicle to tool about in. The amusement of setting off before any of the others added spice to the day. She would have to do penance for it later, she knew, for here everything revolved around rank. The marquess’s carriage should have gone first, and then, no doubt, the guests, the aunts and uncles, and the young people at the back of the long procession. It was not so in India, where a spirited young lady driving her own curricle was permitted a degree of indulgence.

  Here, as a mere c
ompanion, she should be subservient, know her place, always hang back. Oh, she was so tired of hanging back! So tired of being meek, demure companion Miss Rosemary Quayle, instead of outspoken heiress Miss Hortensia Blythe. How she longed to confess, and yet, how awkward it was to admit to such an outrageous deception. So much easier to drift along and hope for the best, and enjoy the attentions of a man who was gloriously ignorant of her true situation.

  They rattled down the drive at a rapid pace, the horses still fresh and pressing to go faster. She held them in check, not sure how far they had to go. Beside her, Lord Humphrey said nothing, but every time she stole a glance at him, she saw him grinning from ear to ear, just as she was. He was so much fun! Not in the least stuffy, not like some of these society people. He never stood on ceremony with her, and treated her with such ease, as if they were equals. So handsome, and that smile… those eyes that looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world… and his voice, when he lowered it to speak confidentially, warmed her to the soles of her feet. How easily she had fallen in love with him, after all these years when she had been quite heart-free. And he loved her, she was sure of it now. She could not mistake the glow of ardour in his eyes! He loved her, thinking her nothing but a companion, loved her solely for herself. Happiness bubbled up inside her, making her want to laugh and cry and sing for joy.

  Of course, as long as he believed her penniless, there was no question of marriage, but if he knew her to be wealthy… But she must not let her emotions get the better of her, not today. She must use her head, and think what must be done. But it was so difficult when he looked at her just that way. When she stole a glance at him, his head was turned towards her.

  “This is fun, is it not?” His laugh spun itself around her like a web.

  “Have I shocked all your relations?” she said, slowing the horses to a walk at the end of the long drive, as two children from the lodge rushed to open the gates for them.