She held out her hand politely. ‘How do you do, my lord.’
‘Your servant, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam took her hand. She felt compelled to look at him again, then wished she had not. He was studying her thoughtfully, his gaze moving over her features with deliberation. There was a definite masculine interest in that appraisal and Annis recognised it with a shock. She felt a little shiver go through her and withdrew her hand from his.
Ashwick’s beautiful companion was getting restive at the lack of attention. She pulled on his arm.
‘Are you not to introduce me, Ashy, darling?’ Her French accent was slight and very pretty. She peeked up at him under the brim of the dashing hat with the charm of a wilful child.
Ashy! Annis thought, trying not to laugh at the diminutive. She caught Ashwick’s eye again and looked quickly away, for fear that he might read her mind again. She did not seek such affinity with him.
‘Margot, may I present Annis, Lady Wycherley, and her cousin Mr Charles Lafoy?’ Ashwick sounded pleasantly indifferent now as though the moment of enmity with Charles had never occurred. The lady nodded to Annis and batted her eyelashes at Charles in exaggerated fashion. Annis felt slightly amused and rather more irritated. The whole inn yard seemed to have stopped in order to stare at the Beauty and Annis wondered, as she had on many previous occasions, just why people were always drawn to the obvious. She had lost count of the times that débutantes with charm and fine looks were overlooked when something flashier came along. It was the same here. The ostlers were gaping, the other travellers were staring in admiration and some of the guests were even peering from the inn window to admire Ashwick’s fair companion.
‘I am Margot Mardyn,’ the lady said, with the air of one making an important announcement. ‘You have heard of me, non?’
‘Of course,’ Annis said hastily, as Charles looked blank. ‘I hear that we are will be privileged to have you perform at the Theatre Royal this summer season, Miss Mardyn. My cousin and I shall be sure to attend.’
Margot Mardyn nodded, whilst smiling bewitchingly at Charles. ‘I shall hope to see you after the show,’ she said graciously to him.
She squeezed Ashwick’s arm. ‘Viens, Ashy, I am cold. This “north” of yours is a shockingly barbaric place. Why, do you know…’ she turned back to Charles confidingly ‘…at some of the inns along the way we were obliged to drink in the common tap? Alors! Along with all the hoi polloi! Come along, Ashy!’
Annis looked at Lord Ashwick and was taken aback to see that he was still watching her. He inclined his head and gave her a faint smile, which Annis found even more disturbing. She fidgeted with the seam of her gloves and hoped that her colour had not risen. Famously impervious to the good looks of eligible young gentlemen, she found it very odd that she should be drawn in this curious manner to a man whose style of life was so far removed from her own. Yet she could not deny it; the air between them was sharp with awareness. It was extremely disconcerting.
‘I shall look forward to meeting you again, Lady Wycherley,’ Ashwick said politely. ‘I hope that you enjoy your stay in Harrogate.’
‘Who was that?’ Charles asked in a bemused tone as Ashwick steered his fair companion through the inn door and the excitement in the yard subsided. Annis, observing the rapt expression on his face as he watched Miss Mardyn’s departure, sighed to herself.
‘That was Lord Ashwick,’ she said drily. ‘I collect that you are acquainted with him?’
‘Of course I know Ashwick.’ Charles turned to her impatiently. ‘His family have owned property around here for hundreds of years.’
‘Of course.’ Annis remembered this herself now. The Ashwicks had been part of the long and turbulent history of the Yorkshire moors for centuries, from the time that the first baron had served at the court of Charles II and had been given an estate in the back of beyond for his pains. Presumably Lord Ashwick was in Yorkshire to visit that very estate. Annis found herself wondering if she would see him again.
Charles was still looking over his shoulder in the direction that the couple had gone.
‘Annis? Are your wits wandering? I meant the lady—’
‘Ah, the lovely Miss Mardyn. She is a dancer and singer who has recently graced the stage at Drury Lane.’ Annis looked at him sardonically. ‘Charles, I should be obliged if you would help me up into the carriage. We have been standing here these ten minutes past and, as Miss Mardyn so succinctly observed, it is rather chilly.’
She waited until they were settled back on the fat red squabs of the Lafoy carriage, then added, ‘I heard on the journey up that Miss Mardyn is to entertain us with Harlequin’s Metamorphoses, Escapes and Leaps. Mr Fairlie was telling me about it and he was most excited. I believe the show will sell out, so you had better hurry to get your ticket.’
‘That…child, a dancer?’ Charles’s mouth seemed permanently propped open. ‘She cannot be above seventeen, surely?’
‘Thirty-five if she’s a day,’ Annis said cheerfully, reflecting ruefully that men were always distracted by a pretty face and could never see what was under their nose, ‘and hailing from the Portsmouth Docks rather than Paris, I hear.’
Charles looked appalled and fascinated all at the same time. ‘Good God! And her connection with Ashwick?’
Annis gave him a speaking look.
‘Oh!’ Charles said.
‘Well, it is entirely possible that Lord Ashwick was escorting Miss Mardyn as a favour for a friend,’ Annis said fairly. ‘When I left London the on dit was that she was the Duke of Fleet’s inamorata. Who would have thought that such a bird of paradise would alight in Harrogate, of all places?’
‘You are very free in your conversation, Annis,’ Charles said, his mouth turning down at the corners. ‘It must be the effect of London living. I hope you do not encourage your charges to listen to gossip.’
Annis laughed aloud. ‘I am sorry if I offend your sensibilities, Charles. I had no idea you had turned into such a puritan!’
The coach trundled out of the inn yard and turned on to Silver Street. It was only a step to the house that Charles had hired for Annis in Church Row, but with her trunks it had clearly been impractical to walk. Annis leaned forward to look out of the window at the open ground of The Stray, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight.
‘Oh it is quite delightful to be back! I do believe the last time was two years ago, and a flying visit at that. Tell me, Charles—’ she turned back to look at him thoughtfully ‘—what is the nature of your quarrel with Lord Ashwick? I was not aware that the two of you knew each other.’
Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘I met him last year when his brother-in-law died. It is a little difficult, Annis.’ Charles sighed. ‘The late Lord Tilney, Ashwick’s brother-in-law, was involved in a business scheme with Mr Ingram, but it failed and Ingram bought all his debts. When he died, Humphrey Tilney owed Ingram a deal of money. Ashwick agreed to pay the debt to save his sister from penury. The situation caused some difficulties.’
Annis raised her brows. Samuel Ingram, Charles’s most powerful client, was a man who rode roughshod over all those who opposed his business dealings. She could imagine a nobleman of Lord Ashwick’s calibre deeply resenting being in debt to such a man.
‘What was this business venture?’
Charles looked gloomy. ‘You probably remember it. It was in all the newspapers. Ingram and Humphrey Tilney were joint owners of the Northern Prince, the ship that went down carrying goods and money to the colonies eighteen months ago. There was the devil of a fuss.’
‘I imagine there would be.’ Annis frowned. ‘Was there not a fortune in gold on the ship?’
‘That is correct, and banknotes and silver and God alone knows what other valuables in addition.’
‘Surely it was insured?’
Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes, but Humphrey Tilney had overreached himself financially to fund his part in the enterprise in the first place. Under normal circumstances he might have recoupe
d his losses within a couple of years but, as it was, he ended thirty thousand in debt. Ingram bought his debts up to help him rather than let him fall ever deeper into the hands of the moneylenders.’
‘How charitable of him,’ Annis said drily, thinking that a man such as Samuel Ingram seldom did anything out of the goodness of his heart.
Charles frowned to hear the note in her voice. ‘See here, Annis, Ingram charged a very reasonable rate of interest—’
‘And you wonder at Lord Ashwick resenting the fact!’ Annis said, even more drily.
Charles subsided like a pricked balloon. ‘That is the way that business works…’
‘I dare say. I suppose there was no doubt that the ship actually went down? Ingram has not compounded his sins by defrauding the insurers?’
Charles looked horrified. ‘Devil take it, Annis, of course not! Of course the ship went down! For pity’s sake, do not go around saying such things in public!’
Annis was startled at his vehemence. ‘Very well, Charles, there is no need to roast me for it! I only asked the question. Speaking of Ingram, I read in the Leeds Mercury that there had been a fire at his farm at Shawes. Is foul play suspected?’
Charles gave her a very sharp look. ‘Not at all. Why do you ask?’
Annis gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘No need to pretend to me, Charles! I know that Mr Ingram is not popular hereabouts. I have read all about the arson and the threats to his property.’
Charles looked shifty. ‘Yes, well, I will concede there has been a little local difficulty over the enclosure of the Shawes common, and there has been some discussion about rents this year—’
‘You sound like a lawyer!’ Annis said with a sigh.
‘Well, so I am. And Mr Ingram’s lawyer at that. It is my place to be dispassionate.’
‘I would have thought that Mr Ingram would see it as your place to support him,’ Annis said drily. ‘That is what he pays you for.’
Charles blushed an angry red. ‘See here, Annis, must you be so blunt? I’m astounded you ever find a match for those girls of yours if you are as outspoken with their suitors as you are with me!’
‘Fortunately the gentlemen are marrying the girls and not me,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘I do not seek to marry again, as you know, Charles.’
‘Can’t think why not. At least you would not need to work then.’
‘Thank you, but I prefer to be independent. You know I dislike to be idle. Besides, I found that the married state did not suit me.’
‘Not surprised if you spoke to John as plainly as you do to me!’
Annis locked her gloved hands together and looked pointedly out of the window. It was no secret that she and her elderly husband had been unhappy together, but even after eight years of widowhood the memory caused an ache.
‘Sorry, Annis.’ Charles sounded remorseful. ‘I did not mean to offend you.’
‘It is no matter, Charles.’ Annis spoke briskly. ‘You know that John had decided opinions about women and their place. Now that I am no longer required to respect those views, I fear I have become quite outspoken.’
‘I suppose there are some men who like their wives to read the newspaper and have decided opinions,’ Charles said dubiously.
‘Are there? I have never met any of them.’ Annis smiled. ‘So perhaps it is fortunate that I do not look to marry.’
The carriage slowed before a grey stone house with neat sash windows, then turned through a small archway into a cobbled yard with stables along one side.
‘There is a walled garden at the back,’ Charles said eagerly, ‘and I have engaged a couple of servants for you. You indicated that Mrs Hardcastle was to be housekeeper, so I imagine that she will wish to have the ordering of the household affairs once she arrives.’
‘Of course. Hardy will soon have everything organised.’ Annis looked about her with approval. ‘You seem to have done us proud, Charles.’
‘There is a drawing-room and walk-in cupboards in the bedrooms,’ Charles offered, still trying to make amends for his earlier insensitivity. ‘It is all very modern. I am sure that it is just what you require, Annis.’
‘Thank you.’ Annis took his hand as she descended from the coach. ‘There is a most pleasant aspect to the front.’
‘And the shops are not far away.’
‘I assume that it is a quiet neighbourhood and one suitable for the Misses Crossley? No undesirable alehouses or rowdy neighbours? I would not wish my charges to be subject to unsuitable influences.’
Charles had opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud tally-ho from the road and a green and gold phaeton shot past, its occupants shrieking with laughter. It turned neatly through the archway of the house behind. Annis raised her eyebrows.
‘My new neighbours, I presume?’
‘Oh, dear,’ Charles said unhappily.
‘Ashy dearest,’ Margot Mardyn said sweetly, draping herself over the arm of Adam Ashwick’s chair, ‘whatever would your mama say if she knew that you had brought me here?’
Adam glanced up briefly from the York Herald. The diva’s cleavage was inclining tantalisingly close to his nose. It was plush and pink, and smelled cloyingly of roses. Adam looked thoughtfully at it, then returned to his paper.
‘Margot, my sweet, do go and sit down. You are blocking my light. I am sure that Tranter will be in with the tea in a moment.’
Miss Mardyn flounced away to lay herself seductively along the sofa. ‘Ashy…’ her voice fell several octaves ‘…you have not answered my question.’
Adam sighed and laid his newspaper aside. He knew there was not the least chance of him finishing the item until Miss Mardyn had partaken of tea and been delivered to her palatial suite of rooms at the Granby Hotel. His original intention to deliver her directly there had been thwarted when one of his horses had thrown a shoe, necessitating the stop at the Hope Inn. After that, Margot had insisted that nothing but tea in Church Row would soothe her ruffled sensibilities.
‘I am persuaded that Mama would be delighted to find you here, Margot,’ he said. ‘She will be quite cast down to have been out of town.’
‘But now that we are here,’ Miss Mardyn purred, with a soft fluttering of her lashes, ‘we might find a pleasant way to pass the time, Ashy…’
Adam raised his brows. ‘Indeed we might, sweet. We could talk, and take tea and even…’ he smiled at her ‘…plan a trip to Knaresborough!’
Miss Mardyn scowled unbecomingly. She did not take kindly to teasing.
‘I had something so much more exciting in mind, Ashy!’
‘Did you?’ Adam murmured. ‘I doubt that Seb would appreciate it, my love, if I took you up on that offer!’
‘Sebastian will never know,’ the diva replied. She sparkled at him. ‘Please, Ashy. I am most curious. I beg you to indulge me. Lydia Trent says that you were magnifique—a stallion, en effet!’
‘I am indebted to Miss Trent for her enthusiastic description,’ Adam drawled. ‘Alas, the answer is still no, my sweet. Sebastian Fleet might not know, but I would know that I had betrayed his friendship!’
‘You men and your honour!’ scoffed Miss Mardyn. ‘Am I not worth it, Ashy?’
The answer, Adam reflected, was a decided ‘no’ but even he, renowned as he was for plain speaking, could hardly be so unchivalrous as to say so. He had been widowed for nine years and during those years he had sampled the favours of quite a few opera singers, actresses and dancers like Miss Trent, with the addition of several bored society ladies as well. Even so, he felt he could scarcely lay claim to the title of rake, for all that others awarded it to him. Despite Miss Trent’s extravagant praise, sexual conquest was not even an activity that particularly interested him. There was something deplorably mechanical about the amorous liaisons of many of the ton, whereas he, having once experienced true love, was at heart a real romantic.
Six months before, the past had finally and unexpectedly caught up with him and put paid to any rakish tendencies fo
r good. They had taken dinner at Joss Tallant’s house that night, he, Seb Fleet and a number of other friends. Gradually the others had drifted away to the clubs and balls, leaving Joss and he partaking of a malt whisky and talking over times past and the time to come. At some point, late in the evening, Amy Tallant had come in, kissed her husband goodnight and warned him not to be too late to bed. From the look in Joss’s eye, Adam had guessed that it would not be long at all until he was politely ejected from the house and Joss went hot foot to join his wife. And that was when it had happened. Adam had felt the most sudden and shocking jolt of jealousy and misery go through him like a sword thrust. It was not that he envied Joss his wife, serene and charming though Amy was. It was that for the first time in years he remembered the warmth and intimacy and pure pleasure of marriage, and he felt sick to think that he had had it and lost it all.
Joss had seen the stunned look in his eyes and, old friend that he was, had challenged him on it. They had ended up talking until the morning and finishing the bottle of whisky between them. Adam had sent Amy a huge bunch of flowers the following day with his apologies for keeping her husband from her side. But the ache of loss had not been alleviated and Adam knew he would never find what he was looking for in the scented bordellos of Covent Garden. He would not even try. The favours of Margot Mardyn, so eagerly sought by so many men, were not for him.
Miss Mardyn was aware that his attention had slipped from her. She wafted over to the window and stood twitching the drapes and peering out inquisitively.
‘Alors, Ashy, it is that so-proper Englishman we met at the inn! I do so adore men like that—so prim, so correct. It makes me want to tear off all their clothes and shock them to the core!’
The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical) Page 2