by Mary Nichols
‘Because, in case it has slipped your attention, my sweet, she has arrived back in England expecting to be crowned with him. And he is determined that will never happen.’
‘How is he going to prevent it?’
‘Divorce her, I suppose.’
‘But his behaviour has been every bit as bad as hers. Would he dare risk it?’
‘I suppose he thinks the risk worth taking. If he can divorce her, he might remarry and beget an heir.’
She laughed. ‘But he is too old and fat, surely?’
‘He might not think so. And who else is there? His brothers have not been exactly helpful in the matter of legitimate heirs, have they? Plenty of little Fitzes, but none the law can recognise.’
‘There’s the late Duke of Kent’s baby.’
‘Victoria, yes. But she’s a girl.’
‘So what?’ she said sharply. ‘The only reason women are considered inferior is because men have made them believe they are. And I am not the only one to think that. Stepmama believes it too, as you very well know.’
He laughed as they turned in at the gates of the park and turned along the carriage ride. ‘Vinny, are you looking for an argument?’
‘Not at all, unless you are dying to give me one, in which case—’
‘Argue with you! Never! It is more than my life is worth.’
‘Good, because I want you to let me drive.’
‘Certainly not!’
‘Why not? You know I am as good a whip as any man. All you need to do is hand over the ribbons.’ She reached out and laid her hand upon his, hoping he would relinquish the reins. He felt himself tense at her touch, but brought himself quickly under control.
‘No, Vinny. There are far too many people about and it would not be just you and me who might be hurt if you upset us.’
‘Very well,’ she conceded, knowing he was right. ‘We will come out very early one morning when the park is deserted and you shall let me try.’
‘Your papa would not allow it. Nor Little Mama, either.’
‘Then we will not tell them. Oh, go on, James, it will be fun and what harm can come of it when you are there to look after me?’ She looked up at him, dazzling him with her smile. ‘Will you?’
‘I will think about it. Now, I think you had better acknowledge Lady Willoughby before she reports to your mama that you cut her dead.’
From the height of her seat, Lavinia could look down on the occupants of the other carriage and smiling, she turned and bowed to her ladyship. From then on, she was kept busy bowing and bidding ‘good day’ to dozens of ladies out for an afternoon drive and not a few gentlemen on horseback who knew James and envied him his attractive companion.
There was Lord Bertram Haverley, a widower of middle years, known to be looking for a second wife to give him the heir his first wife had failed to do, though she had provided him with two daughters. Sophia, the older, was not quite of marriageable age, and Eliza was two years younger. They were both pretty, bright girls dressed in white gingham. Soon after parting from them, they stopped to speak to Mr Martin Drew, stiffly correct, who only just managed to conceal his disapproval of her going out unchaperoned; and there was handsome Lord Edmund Wincote, who was a stranger to Lavinia, but greeted James so enthusiastically he was obliged to pull up and present him to her.
He was a young man of perhaps four and twenty, fashionably attired in a riding coat of good Bath cloth, a yellow waistcoat, deerskin breeches and tasselled boots. When he swept off his tall riding hat to Lavinia, he revealed short dark hair that sprang into tight little curls.
‘I am happy to make your acquaintance, my lady,’ he said, appraising her with eyes so dark they were almost black. ‘Are you in town for the Season?’
‘Yes, my lord. And you?’
‘Oh, most assuredly, London is the place to be at this moment.’
‘Oh, you mean because of the coronation?’
‘Not at all.’ He smiled into her eyes, making her stomach give a sudden lurch. ‘Because Lady Lavinia Stanmore is here.’
She laughed a little shakily. ‘Flatterer!’
‘I speak from the heart, my lady. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you at some of the entertainments being held this year.’
‘Oh, undoubtedly, should we both be invited to the same function,’ she said airily, pretending to be unaffected.
‘Then I shall look forward to them all the more.’ He smiled and replaced his hat before wheeling his horse round. ‘Until we meet again, my lady. Corringham, good afternoon.’
‘That was pitched too bold by far,’ James said, as they pulled away and made for home. ‘He must be desperate.’
‘What do you mean, desperate?’ she snapped, turning on him, green eyes flashing. ‘Am I such a poor catch? A ninny no man could possibly want unless he be desperate? You may be my brother, but that does not mean you may disparage me—’
‘Vinny, that is the last thing, the very last thing, I would do. It is the man I disparage, not you. And I am not your brother.’
‘Thank goodness for that for, if you were, you would wrap me up in so many prohibitions I should not be able to breathe. Good heavens, the man was only being polite.’
‘I am sorry, Vinny,’ he said. ‘I did not mean to upset you. You are miles above him in every way and, by desperate, I meant he was trying to find favour even when he must know he has no hope.’
‘And how do you know he has no hope? He is handsome and very polite and—’
‘But for all we know he might be a fortune-hunter, looking for a rich wife and they don’t come richer than the daughter of the Duke of Loscoe.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘What, that your dowry is likely to be more than generous?’
‘No, silly, that Lord Wincote is pinched in the pocket.’
‘A guess,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen him in years and now he turns up out of nowhere, bold as brass. It makes me cautious.’
‘Fie on you, for your suspicious nature. I’ll wager his coat was tailored at Weston’s and the boots came from Hoby’s. Besides, that horse of his is no broken-backed hack. Men without feathers cannot fly so high.’
‘There is such a thing as credit. And debt, as I should know.’
She was diverted from the subject of Lord Wincote to turn and look searchingly into his face. ‘James, surely you are not—’
‘No, of course not. I was referring to my green days. I am a reformed character, as you are perfectly aware.’
‘So you do not need a rich wife?’
He smiled, unable to resist teasing her, knowing she never took offence and would give back as good as she got. ‘Oh, I would not turn one down simply because she was rich, all other considerations being in her favour.’
‘What other considerations?’
‘Her temperament. She would have to be beautiful and biddable too. I could not abide living under the cat’s paw.’
Surprisingly she did not rise to his bait. Instead she said, ‘And do you not think Lord Wincote might have the same sentiments?’
‘I am not privy to his sentiments, Vinny.’
‘Nor, as far as I can tell, to his true situation. Not that it matters, money is not important…’
‘Only because you have never felt the want of it.’
‘I told you before, I shall marry only when I fall in love. And if I fall in love with a pauper, so be it.’
‘Not with him, surely? He is not worthy of you.’
‘I shall say who is worthy and who is not.’ Her temper was up and he ought to have known better than goad her, because it only made her more determined to further the acquaintance of the young man in question. Too late, he realised the wisdom of silence and drew up at the door of Stanmore House without saying another word.
He jumped down and strode round the phaeton to help her alight. She jumped from the last step and almost fell into his arms. He caught her and held just a fraction longer than he ought to have done, but the
feel of her lovely body so close against his sent tremors of desire through him and he wanted to savour the feeling as long as he dared.
‘Will you come in?’ she asked, looking up into his grey eyes and seeing there a look which she could not fathom. It was sadness and tenderness and humour all mixed up together and it confused her. And there was a strange twist to his mouth as if he wanted to smile, but could not, which made her want to ask him what troubled him and to comfort him. ‘Mama might be back.’
He released her reluctantly. ‘Does that mean I am forgiven?’
‘Of course it does, silly.’ The fleeting moment of intimacy was gone. ‘But you must make recompense.’
‘Oh?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘And what might that be?’
‘Take me out in the phaeton again.’
‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’
‘Tomorrow. Early. Seven o’clock.’
‘Now, Vinny, I never said—’
‘You said you would think about it and now you have thought and have decided that there cannot possibly be any harm in letting me take the ribbons in a deserted park. You think you might even enjoy teaching me, always supposing you manage to rise early enough.’
‘Oh, so you are privy to my thoughts, are you?’
‘Of course. You are an open book to me.’
He did not think so, or she would have read the love in his heart, a love which had grown and matured ever since that day, three years before, when he had been introduced to her. His stepmother, who had an unerring sixth sense where he was concerned, had warned him that Lavinia was far too young to be thinking of marriage and, as he was often in one sort of scrape or another, the Duke would never countenance him as a son-in-law until he mended his ways.
Mending his ways had been easy; after all, his misdemeanours had been minor ones, all part of the process of growing into manhood. Changing the way Lavinia looked at him was far harder. She was as elusive as a butterfly, there to be seen and admired, laughing with him, sharing confidences, expecting him to pull her out scrapes, but likely to flit away without warning, leaving him empty-handed. He sighed, just as the Loscoe barouche drew up beside them and the Duchess alighted.
‘James, I had no idea you were in town.’ Almost thirty-eight years old, Frances, Duchess of Loscoe, was as elegantly beautiful and as full of life as a girl half her age.
‘I arrived yesterday, Mama, and, hearing you were here, I came to pay my respects.’
‘And found only Lavinia at home. I am sorry. If I had known…’ She paused to look at the phaeton, while her groom unloaded armfuls of parcels from her carriage and took them into the house. ‘Did you arrive in that?’
‘Yes. I bought it for a song. Its first owner grew tired of it.’ He could not rid himself of the habit of justifying his purchases to her. If it had not been for her careful supervision when he was growing up, he would have dissipated his inheritance before it had been in his hands five minutes. Now, long after he had learned more sense, the habit remained.
‘I am not surprised. It looks very dangerous.’
‘No, it isn’t, Mama,’ Lavinia put in. ‘But it is very exhilarating to ride in.’
‘By that am I to assume you have been for a ride in it?’
‘Only a very little one to the park and James drove very sedately, I promise you.’
Frances made no comment as she led the way into the house and ordered refreshments to be brought to the drawing room. Then she took off her gloves and hat, carefully stroking the long curled feather into place before handing them both to a footman.
‘Now, tell me all your news,’ she commanded her stepson when all three were sitting comfortably with cups of tea in their hands. ‘There is nothing wrong at Twelvetrees, is there?’
‘No, but being a country landlord can be very trying at times, especially with the economy in the state it is. I felt like a little diversion.’
‘You would not feel like that if you were married.’
‘I cannot see how being married would make any difference to the work of the estate.’
‘No, but you might not find is so trying if you had a wife and children to fulfil you.’
‘Oh, Mama, not again, please. I promise to make a push on the matter this Season, will that satisfy you?’ He looked at Lavinia as he spoke, but she was smiling to herself and stroking the tortoiseshell cat which had climbed on to her knee, apparently completely unperturbed. If the Duke were to enter the room the cat would be gone like a streak of lightning.
‘For the moment. I do not suppose you have been in town long enough to receive any invitations yet.’
‘No, but I do not doubt word will soon go round and I will be besieged. Tell me what is planned and where you will be going, then I shall know whom to accept.’
‘Lady Graham is holding a ball…’
‘Don’t tell me Constance is not off her hands yet. This must be the third year she has tried to fire her off.’
‘James, I wish you would not be so vulgar,’ Frances said. ‘Poor Constance cannot help being plain, but I am sure some young man will recognise her worth before long.’
‘Well, it will not be me, so you may put that idea from your mind. But if I am invited, then I shall go, if only to dance with you.’
‘And me,’ Lavinia put in.
He inclined his head towards her. ‘That goes without saying, my dear. Now, what else is there?’
Although the Season was half over, the Duchess reeled off a catalogue of events, from musical soirées and routs to balls and picnics, not to mention a visit to the opera and another to Vauxhall Gardens. ‘That is, if this wretched business with the Queen doesn’t upset everyone’s plans.’
‘Then I shall look forward to seeing much more of you both.’
Lavinia began to laugh and they both turned to her in puzzlement. ‘What have I said that is so comical?’ he asked.
‘You have just said the same thing as Lord Wincote and in him you condemned it as bold and desperate. Are you desperate, my lord?’
‘Certainly not.’ Unwilling to enter into a discussion on the topic, he stood up. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I must leave you both.’
Lavinia sprang to her feet. ‘I will come to see you off, James.’
He smiled, took his leave of his stepmother, then left the room, followed by Lavinia. At the outer door, she took his hat and gloves from the footman and handed them to him. Her eyes were alight with mischief. ‘I shall see you tomorrow at seven round the corner in the mews,’ she whispered. ‘We do not want to wake the household, do we?’
‘Vinny, I do not think—’
Before he could go on, she had pushed him towards the door. ‘Good afternoon, my lord.’ He suddenly found himself on the step and the door firmly closed behind him. It was a situation he would never have put up with from anyone else; any other young lady treating him in that cavalier fashion would have been dropped immediately. But Lavinia was different. Lavinia was Lavinia, self-willed, to be sure, but there wasn’t an ounce of malice in her body; she had not meant it as a put-down, simply a way of preventing him from arguing.
He clamped his hat on his head, strode to the phaeton, climbed in and drove off, smiling to himself at the prospect of teaching her to drive it.
‘Vinny, what was all that about?’ Frances asked when Lavinia rejoined her. ‘Have you quarrelled with James?’
‘No, Mama.’ And Vinny, who did not see the need to hide it, told her about the encounter with Lord Wincote and James’s reaction.
‘He was only trying to protect you,’ her ladyship said. ‘You know he is very fond of you.’
‘That does not mean he may act as a substitute father. I am not such a ninnyhammer as to fall under the spell of the first man who pays me attention.’
The Duchess laughed. ‘No, for you demonstrated that very clearly when you had your come-out. Your dear papa thought you were being too particular.’
‘But you did not, did you? You know how important it is to
feel comfortable and at ease with one’s choice.’
‘Of course. But there are other things to consider.’
Lavinia laughed. ‘Oh, I know. Good looks and mutual interests and money. I have heard it all before. But I want to be in love. You and Papa were in love, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. We still are.’
‘Then you will understand.’
‘Yes, but you have only just met Lord Wincote. You surely do not think you are in love with him?’
‘No, how could I be? I have barely exchanged half a dozen words with him. I simply wanted to tease James.’ What she did not say was that Edmund Wincote had the most mesmeric eyes she had ever come across. They seemed to have the power to turn her usually iron will to jelly. She wanted to see him again to be sure she had not dreamed it. And if she had not, to explore where the feeling would take her, James’s disapproval notwithstanding.
‘Teasing people,’ Frances said slowly. ‘has been known to rebound on the one doing the teasing.’
‘I know, but James asks for it. He is so…so…stiff sometimes.’
The Duchess laughed. ‘That is the last word I would use to describe him. What is it you do to him to make him behave so out of character?’ The question was a rhetorical one; Lady Loscoe had a very good idea, but it was not for her to point it out. She decided to change the subject. ‘When I left the house this morning, you were intent on doing some painting. How did it go?’
Lavinia scrambled to her feet, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, James and Lord Wincote both forgotten. ‘Come with me and I will show you.’
She led the way down to the ground floor ballroom and flung open the door. ‘There! What do you think of it?’
Frances stood and surveyed the great canvas in surprise for a full minute, then she said, ‘Lavinia, why is it so big?’
‘It is a backcloth to a play.’
‘Oh. Have you been commissioned to paint it?’ Frances herself took commissions for all sorts of subjects, most of them family portraits, pets, horses and vistas of people’s estates, the proceeds for which she donated to the orphanage fund. Not surprisingly, she had never been asked to make scenery.