A Most Rebellious Debutante

by Karen Abbott

  But what had he to offer such a lovely young girl – apart from his wealth and title – but, somehow, he didn’t think that would sway Miss Templeton if her heart said otherwise. She didn’t appear to mind his injuries, not even his disfigured face, which wasn’t a pretty sight first thing in the morning. He groaned. How could he contemplate inflicting such scarred features on to such a delightful creature? Was he out of his mind? Probably, he admitted ruefully, because he was certainly going to give it a try – even if he had to endure the torment of a Season on the marriage mart whilst he courted her and attempted to win her heart.

  He laughed aloud as he recalled his dear mama telling him late last night of his grandmother’s roguish attempt to matchmake between the two of them. What had his mama said? Grandmother had asked Miss Templeton if she would marry her eldest grandson and Miss Templeton had replied, ‘Not unless I loved him.’ Did she? Did he dare hope?

  He was going to find out and as soon as possible. He swung his legs out of bed and stretched his limbs before carefully rising to his feet and commencing the series of movements he had devised to loosen and strengthen his body. His mobility was getting better every day and, in spite of the tension in his muscles from the previous day’s activities, he knew he was well on the way to full recovery, even if he did still need the help of a cane. Life was suddenly looking good, but it wouldn’t be perfect until he knew where he stood with the delightful Miss Templeton and only then if she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

  Good heavens! He felt as nervous as a young buck about to make his first declaration. No, that wasn’t true, he felt more nervous, because he knew that this was no passing fancy. He loved her. She was everything he wanted and needed. He felt he had known her longer than the actual reality of a few months. She had been hovering as a tangible wisp of a dream that floated on the edge of his consciousness for a couple of years, just waiting for fate to take a hand in bringing them together. Her image had danced and floated in his arms in his pain-filled nightmares; someone who had drawn him back from the depths of oblivion after the debilitating injuries inflicted by his cousin Piers; someone who had soothed away the devastating pain when he had been told of Con’s death – only he hadn’t known her face, just the sense of her presence … a presence that always faded in his first moments of waking, like the remnant of a dream.

  But now she was real. He knew her name; he knew her face; and he would see her again – today!

  Suddenly eager to set his plans into motion, he strode into his dressing room calling for Crawford, his valet. He could tell by the sounds of activity within the Hall that it must be nearly time for nuncheon already. He would go the moment he had eaten.

  In the event, it was two o’clock in the afternoon when his coach swept through the gates of Glenbury Lodge. Amazingly, a groom or gardener was there ready to open the gates and Simkin was able to maintain the pace of his matching four without them breaking step. It was almost as if he were expected, though the Cunninghams’ butler took a moment to recognize him.

  ‘Lord Rockhaven! My, but it’s good to see you, m’lord! We heard your return was imminent!’ the butler exclaimed a few seconds after he stepped through the doorway. His face resumed its trained neutrality as he added sombrely, ‘My condolences about your brother, m’lord.’

  Theo nodded, silently accepting the condolences. It didn’t get any easier.

  There was something odd about the butler’s demeanour though, Theo thought, as he watched the butler recollect his duties and make his way along the reception hall and knock discreetly on a door halfway down its length. The initial glow of pleasure that broke through the butler’s practised passive expression, a glow that had given him hope of a good reception from the Cunningham’s themselves, had been swiftly replaced by a hint of wariness, apprehension, even, something more than the swift recognition of his need to rely upon the supporting aid of his cane. No doubt whispers of the previous night’s happenings had begun to filter through the amazing network of communication that the servants in neighbouring houses seemed to have with each other.

  He wasn’t kept waiting long. He heard a murmur of voices, a low feminine cry of – was it consternation? Then the deeper, soothing tones of a masculine murmur. He wondered what Lucy … Miss Templeton … had told them; how much had she shared? Were they expecting him? Or were they hoping Lord and Lady Templeton would be here before he made his call? Miss Templeton had said they were expected later today, had she not?

  Maybe he had been too precipitous. No, he felt the circumstances demanded an urgent visit, if only to declare his good intentions. Other, more formal visits would be needed in due time, of course, but he was eager to see the delightful Miss Templeton again, utterly confident that he had never met any other who could hold a candle to her. Life with her would never be mundane, of that he was sure!

  Ah, the butler was returning.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Cunningham will receive you, m’lord. Will you come this way?’

  Leaning heavily on his stick, Theo followed him back to the drawing room, hoping that he would find Miss Templeton there also.

  ‘Lord Rockhaven, Earl of Montcliffe,’ the butler announced and Theo advanced into the room. He was glad that he had made good use of his enforced absence from Society to replenish his wardrobe. Although he had regained much of the weight lost at the height of his convalescence, his clothes had hung upon him as if adorning a scarecrow, causing Crawford, to shudder with distaste. But, today he was dressed as fine as any gentleman should be, in a well-cut coat of plum-coloured superfine, a neatly tied cravat, biscuit-coloured pantaloons and gleaming Hessian boots. He held his hat and gloves as he made a fine bow.

  There was a strained air between the couple, though they made every effort to hide it as they echoed their butler’s greetings and condolences. However, Cunningham’s bow was no more than perfunctory, though he couldn’t fault Mrs Cunningham’s curtsy. Indeed, she seemed reluctant to rise from it and, when she did, she seemed reluctant to meet his glance. He was aware that his eye-patch was causing Mrs Cunningham some problems, too. She kept glancing at it and then sliding her glance away again, as she twisted and untwisted a lace-edged kerchief in her hands. Theo bore it ruefully, knowing it was something he would have to cope with until people became accustomed to seeing his disfigurement.

  His hostess perched herself on the edge of a straight-backed seat, stiffly indicating that he do likewise. ‘Please be seated, m’lord. You will partake of some refreshment?’

  Theo flicked back the tails of his coat and carefully sat down. ‘If you please, ma’am.’ He glanced about him, imagining Miss Templeton gracing the room with her lively presence. ‘What a pleasant room you have here.’

  After enduring ten minutes of excruciating conversation, Theo knew the allotted time for making a call was passing by. He must ask to see Miss Templeton before society manners compelled him to make his departure.

  ‘And your sister, Miss Templeton, is staying with you, I believe,’ he enquired casually.

  ‘Lucy?’ Mrs Cunningham almost squeaked, casting an alarmed glance at her husband, whom Theo had to admit had been devilishly sullen throughout the conversation.

  Theo bowed his head in assent. ‘I have had the pleasure of making Miss Templeton’s acquaintance and would like to pay my respects … if she is at home to visitors this afternoon.’

  ‘No! You cannot!’ Mrs Cunningham said abruptly, her fingers spread at the base of her throat. ‘You have been misinformed, m’lord! She isn’t here!’

  ‘Not here?’ Theo looked from his hostess to her husband. ‘But she has been here! When did she leave?’

  Mrs Cunningham threw a despairing glance at her husband, who took it upon himself to make a brief reply.

  ‘She left, with her parents, about half an hour ago, m’lord, just before you arrived.’

  Theo swore mildly under his breath. Her parents had arrived and removed their daughter immediately? The outdoor man had been closing th
e gates, not opening them! He forced his voice to remain calm as he asked, ‘And when will she return?’

  ‘Miss Templeton will not be returning in the foreseeable future, my lord,’ the honourable Rupert said tersely.

  ‘What?’ Theo couldn’t believe it. He had been wasting valuable time! He hurriedly rose to his feet, but before he could say another word, a scuffle in the doorway heralded the arrival of both a maid with a tray of refreshments and an excited boy, whom Theo recognized immediately.

  ‘Rocky!’ Bertie exclaimed. ‘I knew it must be you when Farrell teased me that you look like a pirate. Aunt Lucy said you had gone, but I knew you’d come back! I hoped so, anyway.’

  ‘Bertie! You should not be in here! Where is Nurse Harvey?’ Rupert Cunningham reprimanded him sternly.

  Bertie’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I wanted to see Rocky.’ He turned to face him again. ‘Did you know that Aunt Lucy has gone away, now, sir? She’ll be so sorry to have missed you. She was crying, you know. It made me sad to see her crying … and now Bella’s crying upstairs in the nursery. But I didn’t cry … well, not very much.’ His face brightened again. ‘I know! Do you want to come and see Wellington? I’m teaching him to pretend to be dead when I tell him to! You’ll see how much he has improved since you last saw him.’

  Before Theo could reply, an older woman entered the room looking flustered. ‘I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, sir, your lordship. He just ran off, ma’am. Come back to the nursery at once, Master Bertie, if you please!’

  ‘Thank you, Nurse Harvey,’ Mrs Cunningham said faintly, fanning her hot cheeks with her hand.

  ‘Go at once, Bertie!’ his father commanded.

  ‘I will see Wellington next time I call, Bertie,’ Theo promised, as the downcast boy was hustled from the room by his nurse.

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘See! I told you he was kind,’ Bertie’s voice floated back through the doorway before Farrell drew it closed.

  Theo eyed his disconcerted hosts. ‘I know I owe you an explanation, but there isn’t time, right now. Forgive my hasty departure. I must leave at once.’

  ‘I forbid you to follow my sister-in-law, my lord!’ Rupert said stiffly. ‘I don’t know what sort of acquaintance you have with her, but it seems to me—’

  ‘She saved my life last night!’ Theo said sharply. ‘And our acquaintance has been totally honourable!’ He swung around to face Mrs Cunningham. ‘In which direction have they gone, ma’am?’

  ‘Er …’ She cast an anxious glance at her husband. ‘To our country estate in Surrey, my lord.’ She glanced at her husband again before adding hastily, ‘My parents plan to marry her to a middle-aged neighbour without delay.’

  ‘Ha! Do they, indeed?’

  He couldn’t resist grinning mischievously at her over his shoulder as he hurried to the door. ‘Somehow, I think that highly unlikely!’

  He nodded a hasty farewell to Farrell and hurried down the steps as fast as he was able with his slightly ungainly gait, glad to see that Simkin had already turned the coach. ‘The Surrey road, Simkin,’ he ordered as he clambered inside. ‘As fast as you can!’

  He was possibly about forty-five minutes behind Miss Templeton and her parents. He couldn’t begin to imagine what had taken place in the Cunninghams’ home last night, or earlier today, but he gathered that his dear love had been taken home in some sort of disgrace because of her association with him. Marry her off to a middle-aged neighbour, indeed! Not while he had a breath of life in his body!

  It was about an hour and a half later when Simkin bellowed that their quarry was in sight. Theo’s heart was racing. Had he read Miss Templeton’s sentiments towards him correctly? He hoped so; a Season in London wasn’t one of his priorities.

  His coach swiftly overtook the rear of the Templetons’ two coaches and gradually drew level with the larger town coach Theo was pursuing. Theo looked through the nearside window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miss Templeton. His heart leaped with joy. She was seated at the off-side, facing the rear, gazing with unseeing eyes through the window. The sight of her pale face, her eyes large and brimming with tears, tore at his heart. The coaches kept pace with each other and Theo saw the moment when her gaze, initially with casual uninterest, focused upon his face. He smiled and raised his hat, watching her expression change, running through surprise, disbelief, dawning belief, incredulity, into, wonderfully, rapturous delight! He saw her body straighten as her lips formed the shape of his name. ‘Theo!’

  Simkin needed no instructions. He raised his hat to the Templeton coachman, shouted, ‘Pull to!’ and drew slightly ahead, drawing closer to the Templetons’ coach, setting a line that would force the other coach off the road if it kept to its present course, leaving the other coachman no alternative than to haul back on the reins.

  As soon as Simkin drew the horses to a halt, Theo moved as quickly as he was able, but not as swiftly as Lucy.

  She was out of her seat before the coach had drawn to a halt, her hand on the handle, ready to open the door.

  ‘Sit down at once, Lucy!’ Lady Templeton commanded her daughter.

  Her father banged on the coach roof. ‘What’s happening, Bradley?’

  ‘It’s Lord Rockhaven,’ Lucy informed them, as she opened the door. She glanced back over her shoulder as she made to leap down without waiting for the step to be lowered. ‘I knew he’d come for me. And he has!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy! Don’t you dare…! Come back, Lucy!’ her mother cried.

  Lucy paid no heed. She nimbly jumped from the coach and ran forward to where Theo was carefully stepping down from his coach. ‘You came!’ she cried with delight. ‘I hoped you would. And dreaded you wouldn’t.’

  She paused, suddenly shy. He looked … different. A tiny gasp caught in her throat. He was no longer dressed in the garb of a rough soldier hiding in the woodland. Instead, he looked rather splendid in his well-tailored coat and tightly fitting pantaloons. His cravat was of plain cream silk but fell in well-ordered folds. Was he still the man she had fallen in love with?

  She suddenly wondered if her greetings were a little too presumptuous, but before her doubts had time to take root, he was standing before her and immediately drew her into his arms. ‘How could I not, my darling girl?’

  She looked adorable. Her hesitancy made her seem vulnerable and he longed to sweep her up into his arms and twirl her around. He longed to capture her laughing red lips in his own and taste the sweet delight of her, but he wasn’t yet strong enough for such flamboyant behaviour and he was conscious that her father was descending from his coach with an expression of wrath upon his face. So, instead, he held her at arm’s length and then took hold of one hand.

  ‘Lucy, I mean, Miss Templeton, I will court you through the next Season if I must, but I can’t wait to know. Can you bring yourself to love me? Can I hope?’

  Lucy beamed up at him, her eyes shining, though she tried to look stern. ‘Ugh! Not another Season. I hoped for better than that from you, m’lord!’

  ‘Ah! Not a long courtship, then?’ With a wary eye on the approaching Lord Templeton, he raised his right eyebrow and cupped her chin in his hand, lowering his head until his breath whispered across her lips. ‘How short?’

  Lucy felt ready to melt. Her limbs were turning to jelly and her heart was racing wildly out of control. She felt euphoric. She was in his arms again, at last. She remembered his last kiss. She held her breath, revelling in the warmth of his breath on her lips.

  ‘Very short?’ she whispered.

  ‘Christmas, then. We’ll be married at Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  ‘You, sir!’ Lord Templeton thundered. ‘Unhand my daughter!’

  Theo stepped to the side, but kept hold of Lucy’s right hand. He made a brief but pleasant obeisance with his other hand.

  ‘Lord Templeton … Lord Rockhaven, Earl of Montcliffe, at your service, sir! May I speak to you, concerni
ng your daughter’s hand in marriage?’

  Lord Templeton looked ready to splutter an outraged refusal, but Lucy slipped her hand free of Theo’s and ran to her father. She slipped her arm into his and looked up at him beguilingly.

  ‘Do say yes, Papa, for you must know that I love him dearly!’

  ‘Hmph! Love, indeed!’ Lord Templeton eyed Lord Rockhaven speculatively. An earl, eh? And Murchison was merely the second son of a baronet. And, if Lucy’s wild revelations were to be believed, Montcliffe wasn’t the disgraced soldier he had been rumoured to be. Besides, he knew a fait accompli when he saw one. He nodded curtly. ‘Instruct your driver to follow us to our home, m’lord. I will speak to you there.’

  Later, in front of a roaring fire in the Templetons’ drawing room, Theo took hold of Lucy’s hand and drew her to him. He had already assured her that he appreciated loyal servants and that her erstwhile maid and groom would be welcomed into his household. His heart swelled with love for her. He would give her everything that was in his power to give.

  Lucy felt a melting deep within her as she willingly stepped into the circle of his arms, loving the way her body moulded to his shape, loving the very essence of him: the scent of his skin, the re-growing strength of his muscles, the very masculinity of him. She knew she was where she always wanted to be.

  She lifted up her face and smiled shyly.

  He was watching her changing expressions, his eyes reflecting her look of love and longing. His lips curled upwards and crinkly lines radiated outwards from the corners of his eyes, both the one she could see and the one behind the patch. He lowered his head towards her, until his lips moved softly over hers, caressing them, teasing them; the tip of his tongue flickered, begging entrance until, with a tiny sigh, her lips parted and his tongue probed gently, meeting hers with a thrill of joy, causing the kiss to deepen; a long slow kiss that set Lucy tingling from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.