The Rake's Redemption

by Anne Millar

  Her father’s note had encapsulated the position so efficiently, ‘Lord Hampton is pleased to inform you that he and the Honourable Miss Judith Hampton intend to benefit from warmer airs... look forward to renewing acquaintance....next spring residing in London with the Earl and Countess of Tresham.’ There could be no mistaking the message, it was both civilised and unambiguous. Offer for Judith next year in her season, and disappear till then. Civilised and formal, and it should have been wholly incapable of dissuading him from pursuing Judith.

  ~

  “Lord Hampton and Miss Hampton are in the drawing room, my lord.” Judith heard Bridges’ voice as a clarion call to battle. A deep breath was needed to stop a heart desperate to race away with itself, and she couldn’t help smoothing down a gown that was already immaculate. Last year’s, it still made her smile every time she looked at the wavy windowpane check in the white muslin. It always draped well, and since there was no reason to make a major effort today, it was perfectly suitable.

  She’d already checked the maid’s work twice, but that didn’t stop her sweeping her glance once more around the room. Everything was as it should be, every surface dusted, every ornament in its place, a home perfectly prepared to receive visitors. Only father, his face full of worry and concern, spoiled the picture. He’d been taciturn since the discussion on visiting cards, permitting himself only one observation. ‘You haven’t heard from Alsbury since he went to Portugal.’ Judith hadn’t been quite sure if it were a statement or a question and she’d kept her reply equally terse. ‘Jeremy mentioned him a few times.’

  If she could see how fretful father was Thomas would too, so she smiled encouragingly at her parent. “Something seems to be keeping our caller in the hall, father.” Just as the door opened for Bridges to announce their visitor.

  He was pale, very pale, with a faded white gouge cut across his forehead and down his cheek. The scar took away his youth, and this was not the same sweet Thomas she had known. This man was hard eyed, broader, and seemed taller, though he couldn’t possibly be. His uniform was immaculate, as his clothes had always been, but the fit was loose, as though he had lost weight, perhaps from the wound. And his jaw, that had always been so strong, seemed even sharper now.

  He was still Thomas though, dark haired and beautiful, looking as if he would sweep away empires if someone only gave him the order. She caught herself before the fancy went any further. Viscount Alsbury was here as a matter of form, on a courtesy call.

  He inclined his head respectfully to her father, precise as always, then turned to include her. Judith managed a nod, but that was all she could do, and she sat frozen while her father rose and extended his hand. Through the fog that encompassed her she could hear the murmured exchange of polite words, till Thomas moved to catch her eye.

  “Not quite so pretty as I once was, Judith.” His deprecation was light and amused, his smile inviting her to laugh with him at that long ago boy he had been.

  “We had heard you were wounded.” Her father’s voice was kindly but puzzled, because the scar was healed and plainly no reason for an officer to have returned to Britain.

  “Of little account, other than to bring me back here.” The smile was still courteous, but had tightened a little, as though to discourage further questioning. “I trust my adornment does not cause you distress, Judith.”

  How like Thomas to put the responsibility on her so adroitly. It was unthinkable that she would be rude enough to object to his scar, but he could take her acceptance as forgiveness. “A wound honourably gained in the service of our country cannot possibly give offence, Major. You deserve our respect for carrying out your duties so bravely.”

  The words she had written to him had been far more direct: heartbroken, unforgivable, treacherous, dead to me. Now that he stood before her she felt guilt for those words, and for wishing him dead. Yet it had been long ago, and had so little to do with her now. There was no reason why that thought should make her feel sad and empty, but it did.

  “Thank you, Judith, I shall try to deserve your confidence.” Thomas made a half bow to emphasise his words before he realised he was inches away from starting to flirt with her. Stepping into Lord Hampton’s hall had brought back so many memories. To find this quiet, grave eyed girl sitting watching him so intently. She had such dignity. She’d matured, fined down, with no trace left of the mischievous minx she’d been. His second thought was how well it suited her. Judith might be sitting there like a stranger, but an extremely elegant stranger.

  Her hair was shorter now as far as he could tell, with the brunette tresses piled behind a headband that pushed every last hair clear of her face. It had streamed behind her like a banner, wild, indecorous and quite glorious when she had galloped Sherbery all over Oakenhill and dared him to catch her. He couldn’t help but notice one thing that hadn’t changed: the soft muslin of her dress was clingy enough to show that Judith was as toned and lithe as she had ever been.

  “In fact you have my sympathy, Major.” She spoke clearly, voice sweeter than a bell, and words sharper than flint. Thomas was left wondering how he’d lost a sparring match before he’d entered into it. He’d look a fool to object to her sentiment, it was correct and proper, and the last thing he wanted to hear.

  “I am obliged.” Where had she found this remarkable calm, and a sophistication that would catch the eye of any man? That dress would have been the height of fashion last year, and now with the blue tartan sash bound just a little too tightly beneath her bosom it was hypnotic. Puffed sleeves and lace ruffles at her collar and cuffs made it an invitation to dalliance totally at odds with her prim style.

  “How does your godmother fare, my lord?” Jonathon Hampton’s enquiry was scrupulously polite, perfectly pertinent, and directed the conversation down an eminently safe path.

  “Well, sir. In London at present. Lord Guilmor is too concerned with His Highness’s government to leave town. She hopes to come down to Trefoyle in a week or two. Are you in good health, sir? My godmother spoke of an ague.”

  “Quite recovered, my boy. Quite hale.” Father sounded bluff and approving, and Judith found the thought that he might be kindly disposed to Thomas even more infuriating then his show of concern for her yesterday. “Your brother is still in Spain? Is he well?”

  “Quite well when I left him, thank you. In the Peninsula nothing is certain. My condolences on your loss, sir. Jeremy was a fine officer.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. My son did his duty. It seems a difficult war? Her father’s tone was conversational, one gentleman to another, and Judith had to fight down her impulse to run from the room.

  “It is, sir. Made more so by allies who cause us more trouble than the French.” There was exasperation in his voice that caught Judith’s ear. Was Viscount Alsbury thinking of a particular Spanish Marqués?

  “Is that not disloyal of you, Major?” Judith surprised herself at the sugar coating she gave to her pointed question. It almost made it sound as though she intended a trap for him. She consoled herself with the thought that he deserved no better. The way his eyes had walked over her had been insolent. The open admiration he’d shown her four years ago had thrilled her. Now she was older and wiser she knew it for the presumption it was.

  Thomas looked at her, the start of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I speak frankly, Judith, to answer your father’s question. Would you have me do otherwise?”

  “I’d have you show respect for your allies, Major. The Spanish have suffered greatly in this war.” The sentiment sounded too righteous, pompous even, and Judith needed to make the words more cutting. “Perhaps the British are not devoid of fault?”

  “Do you mean the Peer, Judith? I had not realised you were acquainted intimately with grand strategy.” Supercilious was the only word to describe him.

  “John is taken with of the idea of transferring to the army in Spain.” Her father’s voice was almost sepulchral, and Judith looked at him sharply. Till now she’d not rea
lised he placed any credence in John’s boasting.

  “That might be unnecessary, when there is ample work for him with the militia. Too many officers devote only what time they can spare from the hunt.” It was said in a considered way that lent the words credibility, and Judith watched her father’s face brighten at the thought of retaining his younger son at home. Could Thomas have changed enough to be concerned with someone beyond himself?

  “Are you sufficiently recovered to ride with the hunt, Major?” The question was simply an olive branch for the consideration he had shown her father. Thomas gave the impression of swaying slightly, though there was no other outward sign of infirmity but curiosity was gnawing at her.

  “I doubt I will have time, Judith. Do you still have Sherbery? He was a superb animal.” His way of pronouncing the horse’s name left a little pause between the two syllables so that the word sounded like a caress.

  The question left Judith shaken, and her answer sounded too tart. “He still is. Quite my favourite horse.” Had Thomas known the effect his question would have? Did he care nothing that he might offend her, or did he do it deliberately to test her response? Could he think her merely a convenience he might renew? Was that what he had though of her then? “I find he surpasses most of the hunt, Viscount Alsbury.”

  “The Major will be unlikely to ride much, Judith. While he convalesces.” Her father made the words sound almost a command, and Judith was surprised to see steel in his rheumy eyes. “You will visit your father though, Thomas?”

  “I may not have time, my lord. The Volunteers are... absorbing. My father like the hounds may have to wait.” Thomas had slipped back to the respectful visitor and Judith felt a little of her exhilaration slip away with his retreat. The regret lasted just as long as his silence. “So Sherbery may continue to lead the hunt, Judith.”

  How could she have imagined any good of him? He should be begging her forgiveness, and here he was teasing her instead, and she was flapping and fluttering at his words.

  “It would be well if John decided to stay with the militia, Thomas.” Her father’s importuning was embarrassingly transparent and Judith felt herself impatient with him. The last thing she wanted was to be beholden to Thomas Stainford for any reason.

  “Do you expect the French to invade, Major? That the militia are so necessary?” Her father’s look of rebuke had the same chance of stopping her as Canute had of turning the tide.

  “Necessary, but unready, I fear. Did you think them only an indulgence, Judith?” His very reasonableness was maddening, especially when he so patronising in it.

  “Sir Theodore has laid out a great deal of his wealth to raise and equip the militia, Viscount Alsbury. We must be grateful to him for his patriotism. He is to be considered a man of vision.” Judith was warming to her work, irrespective of her lack of enthusiasm for the baronet in question. Theodore Horsley had swept back hair and fleshy cheeks and always put Judith in mind of pictures she had seen of beavers from the Canadian wilderness.

  “Though unfortunately no military experience.” Thomas kept smiling as he delivered what he obvious considered to be the trump card. “Something of a drawback, don’t you think?”

  “I know little of military matters, Major. I should have to ask Colonel Horsley. As the senior officer he would know best, would he not?” She couldn’t help rising to his tease, trying to cap his impertinence.

  “I’m sure he would say so, Judith.” His eyes were brimming with amusement and confidence, smiling with enjoyment of their fencing, and all at once Judith felt the urge to laugh with him instead of continuing this ridiculous dance. But that was the way of him, Thomas Stainford was calculated to charm. You had to resist it. “It is surprising the militia do not meet your satisfaction, Major. John is proud of his company.”

  “A question of experience. Without knowledge of battle officers cannot know if their men are prepared.” He must have seen the disbelief loitering in her eyes. “The militia can be adequately trained in time.”

  “And you are going to train them during your convalescence?” The emphasis she put on the last word of the question was enough to cause her father to raise his eyebrows. “That might be arduous for you, Major. During the winter.”

  “My duty, Judith.” His reply held all the satisfaction of the righteous, and left her scrabbling for a riposte. In those smiling eyes she could almost read the message that it would be better for her not to retaliate.

  “Sir Theodore will no doubt be grateful for your experience, Major. Do you think he may find a place for you amongst his officers?” Four years of anger wouldn’t allow him the victory.

  “I fear I may have upset Sir Theodore with my requirements, Judith.” He kept smiling, but there was a tiredness there now as if their game had passed over into boredom. “In any event I intend to return to Spain when my task here is complete.”

  So the danger was not past for him, and Judith felt a twinge of guilt for the way he had given her father relief over John. “I’m sure Sir Theodore will realise how well served he is by your advice, Major.” It sounded a very lame peace offer.

  “I fear Sir Theodore may take time to see that. But I am delighted by your perspicacity, Judith.” His tone was lighter, the fun returned to it. Surely he didn’t think he could tease her?

  “Sir Theodore is a practical man. He will be guided by the results he sees.” Her father’s intervention served to end the match, leaving Judith annoyed not to have the final word. She had no idea whether the beaver baronet had the ability to tell a trained soldier from a hayfork. The only behaviour she had ever seen from him was obliging his mother in the demands of polite society.

  “My lord. Might I crave a private word with Judith?” The formality of the words stunned her, but her father’s nonchalant acceptance was the coup de grace. He might have been expecting the request. Judith found herself alone with Thomas before she’d the time to gather her wits.

  “My lord?” Not particularly inspired as a gambit, but it would have taken crass insensitivity for him not to hear the wealth of warning contained in the two words.

  “Judith, there is much between us.” Oddly, he injected a note of inevitability into what should have been a question. “I was pleased to find you were here.”

  “Where else should I be, Thomas?” She needed to keep her feelings buried in ice. If he intended to speak as though no time had passed she could not let anger run her.

  “I need to speak plainly to you.” His tone was pitched calm and low, and the intensity in his voice was almost frightening.

  “Nothing prevents you, Thomas, and there is nothing between us.” She paused to see if he would argue the flat contradiction. “There cannot be.”

  He nodded as if reflecting, then lifted his head to meet her defiant eyes. “Yet I have a duty to you, Judith. I am bound in honour to offer you marriage.”

  “Offer me marriage!” It would have been easy to rave. Because of his preposterous nonsense there was only a cold void where her heart and stomach and lungs should have been. Yet she had to stop this before she made the mistake of letting herself consider his offer. Of all he might have said, to tell her that he was bound by honour. That he had a duty to her! “Mistaken. You are mistaken, my lord.”

  “Judith. It is no mistake. We both know that. The mistake was before.” He was watching her carefully as he spoke, untouched by the venom of her response.

  “There was a mistake made before, Thomas. There will not be one made now. You have your answer. Your rejection. You have made your duty bound offer, and now you can go.” It took all of her strength to stop her voice rising, and not to wish him to hell, but she wouldn’t turn her back or lower her eyes.

  The door opened to complete her dismay. “Judith, Sir Roger and Frederick are here.” Her father gave a fine impression of tiptoeing across sharp nails as he came into his own drawing room. “Viscount Alsbury, I’m sorry to interrupt you..”

  “Thank you, my lord, my call is concluded.” T
homas’ response was exactly as good manners demanded, with nothing in his voice to betray that he had just been contemptuously rejected. In her father’s eyes Judith could see a question framed. Fine. If he had had any inkling of what Thomas Stainford had wanted to discuss with her then it served him right. He could remain curious while the Duthfords concluded the half hour call they had driven twenty miles to make out of friendliness.

  No, he had to remain unenlightened for ever if he wasn’t to surmise the reason for Thomas’ offer.

  “Sir Roger, Frederick.” She sailed across the room like a galleon to greet the new arrivals, pausing in her fulsome welcome to introduce Thomas as an afterthought. Even so Frederick Duthford had a jealous huff on his face till Lord Hampton explained that Thomas was a friend of his son returned wounded from the Peninsula. Judith couldn’t help herself but to compare them to two dogs snarling over a bone.

  “Frederick has paid me particular attention since we met at Countess Forfar’s ball, Viscount Alsbury. He is an excellent dancer and the cleverest whist partner.” Frederick Duthford looked ready to swoon at the beatific smile he received and Sir Roger, while more wary, had a happy grin at the turn events were taking. Only her father had the look of someone who disapproved.

  “How pleasing. I must bid you good day, Miss Hampton.” His eyes took in the rest of the company. “Lord Hampton, Sir Roger, Mr Duthford.” Thomas’ bow was delivered with creditable aplomb, but in the circumstances Judith felt no compunction in ignoring it. Frederick Duthford certainly approved of her reserve. She felt quite guilty at his growing disappointment when her manner to him ran down after Thomas had left. So guilty that she even joined her father in waving goodbye to their guests as they set out on their long return journey.

  “Not well done, Judith.” Father could be insensitive, but this bordered on crass.

  “Thomas Stainford deserved anything I said, father. He is a most insolent man.” It didn’t sound convincing, and she could see that father was unimpressed. Why could he not see that Thomas was unbearable in his conceit? To offer her marriage after four years because it was his duty. And not abashed at all about it. Standing there as if she should be grateful.