‘Nice day for a drive, Neave,’ said the one of the gentlemem.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said her companion, drawing the carriage to a halt. ‘I told Marker I’d exercise the horses.’
The three gentlemen examined the horses and gazed admiringly at the phaeton. ‘Beautiful steppers,’ remarked the ice-eyed man. ‘No chance Marker’s selling, is there?’
‘No chance at all. He’s full of juice. Doesn’t need to sell.’
Neave made no effort to introduce her to his companions, and, after that initial inspection, and a number of assessing glances cast her way, they ignored her completely.
Julia felt herself left out, and strangely outnumbered. The sensation was uncomfortable, and for some reason she felt unnerved. You’re imagining it, she told herself firmly. They were in the middle of Hyde Park, surrounded by people, and it was broad daylight.
Eventually, they began to move away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Don’t forget,’ said the ice-eyed man. ‘You have two weeks.’
‘I’m hardly likely to, since you keep reminding me,’ said Neave, cheerfully.
But as they rode away he watched them. He did not move the phaeton immediately. Instead he sat slumped a little in his seat, his hands twisting and turning the reins, oblivious to his surroundings.
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ said Julia.
He looked up immediately. For a moment, she thought she saw despair in his eyes. Then, as he registered her presence, he smiled. ‘I beg your pardon. I was wool-gathering.’
Whatever he had been pondering was far from wool-gathering. But it was not her concern, after all.
‘What would we do without wool-gathering?’ she said. She sounded too bright, too brittle. Strange. Nothing had occurred, yet something undefined had changed between them.
He threw her a sidelong glance, then focused his attention on the horses. He watched them for a while in silence as they moved, then seemed to reach a conclusion.
‘May I confide in you?’ he asked.
He must be in dire straits if he needs to confide in me. He scarcely knows me.
‘Certainly,’ said Julia, sitting up straight and preparing to listen.
‘I know we are still little more than strangers, but from the moment I met you I felt an affinity with you, as if I have known you all my life. I feel somehow that I can trust you.’
She nodded. She understood the sensation. She had experienced it herself. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You can be sure that nothing you say will go further than this carriage.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, pressing her hand briefly in gratitude. He turned his face away. She thought she saw tears in his eyes.
The hint of tears reached into her and pulled at her heart. ‘You must tell me what’s wrong,’ she said, emphatically.
He attempted a weak smile. ‘You must be an angel,’ he said, ‘sent to save me, and I do not deserve it.’
He paused, clearly struggling to put his thoughts together. Then he said, his voice trembling slightly ‘My father was a harsh man. I was his only son, but he had certain idea of what a son should be like. I know it’s hard to imagine, as a woman, the pressure that a boy can have growing up, but he expected me to be like him – hunting mad, obsessed with outdoor activities, fishing, boxing, fighting all day. I was never physically active. I was an indoor person. I liked to snuggle up near the fire, curl up my legs, and read. My father would have none of it. He forced me to leave the house every morning. If he caught me reading, he would whip me. Hard. I still have the marks on my back.’ He looked down at his hands.
Julia exclaimed in horror.
He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. I know I shouldn’t.’
He turned away. ‘I’ve said enough.’
‘No,’ said Julia. ‘Please go on.’
‘Well, the short of it was, I tried my best. I really did try to become the kind of boy my father would like. But I couldn’t. I did not enjoy hunting. I did not enjoy fishing. The only thing I excelled in was riding. Fortunately.’
He paused. She waited expectantly as the silence lengthened.
‘One day my father decided he had had enough of me. I was a disappointment, you see. So he bought me regimentals and sent me to the Continent. “If anything can teach you to be a man, being a soldier will”, he told me.’
Again, a long silence.
‘It didn’t. I hated the blood. I hated the killing. I could not endure it. But I had no choice. My father cut off my money, every penny of it. I was forced to live on an officer’s salary, such as it is.’
Julia knew the salaries were small, though many officers had done very well with prize money once the war was over.
‘After the war, I returned to find him still unwilling to receive me, and still unwilling to provide me with funding. I’m lucky enough to have friends who have helped me. And I am still received in society, in spite of my father. I am his heir after all, and he is a viscount with a large fortune,’ he said bitterly. ‘But meanwhile…’
She felt indignant on his behalf. It was true: society would receive him because of his position. His family was powerful and well established, but without money he could not continue his lifestyle.
It occurred to her suddenly that she could be a solution to his problem, if he married her. Coldness crept into her heart. Was all this a prelude to a proposal? As if reading her mind, he said, ‘I know the solution to my problem would be to marry into money. Despite my impoverished state, I still have a chance to marry an heiress. But such a thought is abhorrent to me. I can’t imagine living my whole life with a wife I do not love, and who does not love me.’ He smiled at her, a self-mocking smile. ‘Besides, oddly enough, I have my pride.’
The coldness that had gripped her disappeared. Relief flooded through her. He was not a fortune hunter, after all.
‘Your feelings do you credit,’ she murmured, sincerely.
‘You can’t imagine how helpful it is to have been able to talk to you this way. Just saying things out loud makes them seem less dire. Already the future looks brighter,’ he said. His eyes sought hers. She could read the gratitude in them.
Then his gaze moved from her face to something behind her. He stiffened, and his face turned bland, emotionless.
‘Are you well acquainted with Lord Thorwynn?’ he asked, his voice formal now.
She started at the name. ‘I hardly know him,’ she said. ‘I met him just yesterday.’ Was it only one day ago? It seemed like much longer.
He nodded.
‘I know it is not my place to offer suggestions—’ Silence.
‘Please continue.’ He needed encouragement. And she wanted to know more about Lord Thorwynn.
‘I would not want you to be hurt. He is a charming man, with easy manners. I admire him in more ways than one. But he has an eye for women. You are too tender-hearted, and I would hate to see him – how shall I put it? – toy with your emotions.’
‘I told you before,’ she said, smiling. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘Indeed you can,’ said Neave, smiling as well. ‘I am certainly glad to know that you are aware of his inclinations. And I have spoken my conscience.’
‘Thank you, Captain Neave,’ she said.
‘It is I who owe you a debt,’ said Neave. ‘And please don’t call me Captain. Under the circumstances, perhaps you could call me Neave, at least?’
His gaze was earnest, craving acceptance.
‘I would be happy to call you Neave.’
He put out his hand to cover hers, thought better of it and drew it back.
When she retired to her room that night, it took her a long time to sleep. Her senses had been awakened, and she tossed about, unable to find a comfortable position to lie in. She fluffed her pillows and rearranged her sheets, but the feather mattress had turned into a bed of pebbles, and she could not find a comfortable position.
Yet she felt more optimistic than she had for a long time.
The drive with Neave had been very promising. She no longer felt it would be impossible to find somebody she could marry. If she could find someone like Neave, someone who was not afraid to reveal his inner self….
But later, turbulent dreams roused her. She lay awake in the dark, trying to untangle the threads. She was standing on the grass in Hyde Park, very close to the Serpentine. Neave was in her dream, riding a white horse, though it was spattered with mud. Lord Thorwynn was there too, shouting something urgently to her that she could not hear. He turned and galloped away, his black horse thundering past her.
There was another in her dreams. He was driving a green high perch phaeton. He rode straight towards her. At first she could not see his face. But at the last moment, just before the horses reached her, just before the collision, she saw his face. He was the icy-eyed man who had spoken to Neave.
CHAPTER 6
When Julia woke up the next morning, it was drizzling. Dark angry clouds hung over London, blocking out the light. The darkness had deceived Julia into sleeping until almost noon, something she did very rarely. By the time she descended her grandmother was already taking a light cold luncheon.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to come down,’ she said. ‘We need to look at the gossip columns again today, just to make sure Lord Thorwynn is out of danger.’
For the next ten minutes, they pored over the pages.
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ said her ladyship eventually. ‘Not a whisper.’ She looked pleased, as well she might. Nothing had occurred to disrupt her plans for Julia’s marriage.
Little did she know that, now that Julia had met Thorwynn, the idea of marrying him was further from her mind than ever.
‘Yes, it does look as if we salvaged the situation.’ She did feel satisfied that they had beaten the scandalmongers at their game.
‘Good.’ Granmother put her paper down with a snap. ‘Perhaps, in that case, it is about time we visited the infamous Miss Neville.’
It was amazing that a woman like Lady Medlow could have produced the cherub. Her face was small, like her daughter’s, but there the resemblance ended.
She seemed especially fond of fur. The shawl draped over her brown morning dress was trimmed with light-brown fur. Her old-fashioned turban, unusually, featured a tail-like strip of brown and black fur. The fur, her sharp teeth and her small round eyes reminded Julia of a weasel she had seen in a book about Canadian trappers.
She and Lady Bullfinch were the only morning callers. Lady Medlow seemed flattered by Lady Bullfinch’s visit, and quickly hastened to order refreshment. But her tiny eyes rested critically on Julia, examining her shrewdly. ‘I have you to thank for rescuing my Amelia,’ she trilled. ‘She said you went to great lengths to capture her horse.’
‘One can hardly say I rescued her,’ replied Julia, seeing another opportunity to cement her Hyde Park story. ‘Lord Thorwynn and I were both at the scene, along with her groom. We were ready to provide assistance if she had been seriously injured. Fortunately, that was not the case. How is she faring?’
‘She is completely recovered,’ said her mother. ‘No doubt due to her youth and agility,’ she added. The door opened and the cherub stepped in. ‘Here you are, Amelia. Lady Bullfinch has been kind enough to call. She was enquiring about your health.’
‘Oh, I am very well recovered, Lady Bullfinch, Miss Swifton,’ she said, curtseying politely. ‘Just one or two bruises. Nothing to signify.’
Amelia smiled prettily, but the smile did not touch her eyes. She crossed the room and sat next to Julia on the heavy brown velvet sofa. Once the formalities were over, she did not speak. She did not exactly pout, but she looked discontented.
‘We are expecting to attend Lady Blackham’s ball tonight. Will you be in attendance?’ asked Lady Medlow.
‘Yes,’ said Lady Bullfinch. ‘Lady Blackham is a good friend of ours. We would not miss her ball for anything.’
‘Good. Then Amelia will have company.’ She turned fierce eyes on Julia, daring her to contradict. Julia’s eyes turned to Amelia, who shrank into the corner of her chair. ‘Of course I will welcome her company,’ said Julia, smiling warmly at her.
Amelia did not answer. Lady Medlow frowned. ‘Sit up straight, Amelia,’ she snapped. ‘You’re not in the nursery any more. What will people think of you?’
If anything, Amelia shrank back even more. Lady Bullfinch asked Lady Medlow a question, drawing her attention away from the young girl. Julia took the opportunity to start up a different conversation. ‘Have you tried the ices at Gunter’s?’ she asked.
Amelia shook her head.
‘Well, then, we’ll take you there,’ she said. ‘Grannie and I are planning to go this very afternoon. Shall we call for you on our way?’
Amelia looked towards her mother, hesitantly. ‘You will have to ask Mama. I’m not sure she’ll approve.’
She definitely lacked town polish. Normally, Julia was not given to accompanying young debutantes. But with a mother like that, Julia could not help feeling sorry for the cherub.
Meanwhile, it looked like the conversation with Lady Medlow had limped to a halt. Julia exchanged glances with her grandmother.
‘We need to take our leave, Lady Medlow,’ said Grannie, standing. ‘We promised to call on a few of our acquaintances.’
‘We would like to call on Amelia later,’ said Julia. ‘We’re planning to go to Gunter’s for ices.’
Lady Medlow shot her another piercing glance, this time full of speculation. ‘Yes. Perhaps that would be a very good idea.’
Lionel was not in a good humour. In fact, his humour was bad enough that he had forced his valet to change his waistcoat three times, an unprecedented event, since Lionel normally trusted his valet’s judgement.
His bad humour began the instant he glimpsed Miss Swifton perched on the shiny phaeton in Hyde Park, with Neave at her side.
‘Did you see that, Benny?’
Benny watched the phaeton ride out of sight, his lips pursed grimly. ‘We can definitely assume Miss Swifton is his next victim.’
‘Unless he’s planning to court her,’ said Lionel.
‘Not a chance. His father is sick, I heard, and not likely to survive until winter. He doesn’t need to shackle himself to an heiress if he’s coming into a fortune. Even if his pockets are to let right now.’
Lionel thought he would explode with rage. ‘Why am I condemned to witness his villainy and be unable to do anything about it?’
Benny threw him a strange look. ‘Don’t tell me the Swifton chit has frightened you off?’
‘She has forbidden me to meddle in her affairs.’
‘You are not meddling in her affairs. This is not really her affair at all. She is, in the scheme of things, completely irrelevant. You are trying to find a way to reveal Neave’s real character to the ton. Think of this as an opportunity to do so, nothing more.’
‘I see no way to uncover Neave without involving Miss Swifton in a scandal.’
‘I’m sure if we put our heads together, we’ll find a way. A few minutes’ reflection should do it.’
Lionel, however, was in no mood for reflection. In fact, he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. The sight of Miss Swifton at that scoundrel’s side had thrown reason to the winds. Granted, he did not care for Miss Swifton. Not at all. But Miss Swifton represented all that was honourable in society, while that—
His horse snorted in protest as his fingers tightened on the bridle.
The responsibility for the situation lay on his head. He was acutely aware of it. Because of him, Miss Swifton had drawn Neave’s attention. If it had not been for Miss Swifton’s kind willingness to clear his name, Neave would never have had paid her the slightest attention. But Neave had not forgiven him for attempting to instigate an investigation into the Captain’s actions during the war. Even if it had come to nothing.
And then he had warned her in that tactless manner and brought her hackles up.
An arm held
him back as he stepped through the doorway into the brightly lit townhouse.
‘For God’s sake, Thor! You can’t walk into a ballroom with a scowl like that on your face. You look like you’re ready to murder somebody.’
‘I am ready to murder somebody. I would be very happy to run Neave through with a sword here and now, if that is the only way I can rid the world of his machinations.’
‘Unfortunately, you can’t. You can’t even get away with doing it in a duel, since duels have been inconveniently outlawed. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to put on a pleasant face. You’re walking into a ball, for heaven’s sake.’
Which did not improve his humour. He had resolved, after Mrs Wadswith’s ball, that he would not grace the ton with an appearance for another year at least. Yet here he was, two days later, walking into yet another of those insufferable events arranged for the Marriage Mart. He must have taken leave of his senses.
Devil take it! He could not stand by and let Neave take advantage of Miss Swifton. True, she was not a naive innocent making her first come out into society, but for all her insistence that she could take care of herself, he felt it imperative to protect her against someone of Neave’s ilk. He remembered the way she had felt in his arms two nights ago. Eyes closed, she had been moving in a world of her own. It had been difficult to concentrate on the steps of the waltz, with her smiling lips leaning towards him, her round breasts straining through her green gown, her hair glinting close to his face. He had breathed in her elusive scent, rosewater mixed in with something else – something he couldn’t recognize but which was unique to her. He wanted nothing more than to run his lips down the side of her neck, then slide them slowly towards those tantalizing mounds, to sink his face into their softness. He compelled himself to keep a distance. To avoid the temptation to use his palm at her back to draw her closer.
No question that she was desirable, though in an unusual way. She was not his type of beauty at all, if beauty he could call it. But that’s where her appeal ended. He was not interested in independent women who had no room in their life for men. There were plenty of women who were willing, happy, truth be told, to cast their lots in with him. He had made a cake of himself two days ago when he had tried to tell her about Neave. He had claimed a relationship they did not have. She was not likely to listen to him if he tried yet again to warn her.
An Improper Suitor Page 6