An Escapade and an Engagement (12 page)

She tore her eyes away from him and made a great production of
finding a chair, settling herself and Lady Penrose, arranging her skirts and
flicking open her fan. She needed to cool her heated cheeks. How could she have
considered running across the crowded room and flinging herself at him? He would
be appalled. He had not minded coming to her assistance in a moment of need.
When he was masked and nobody knew who he was. But he set such store by
appearances that he wouldn’t even let anyone see him take Milly to a modiste. He
would detest being made a spectacle of at a
ton
event.

From across the room Lord Ledbury watched her surreptitiously
as she pulled her dignity around her like a suit of armour. It set her apart
from the frivolous gaiety of the rest of the guests. She might as well have been
holding up a placard saying Keep Away.

To her right, he observed Miss Beresford look at Lady Jayne and
giggle at something her friend Lady Susan Pettiffer whispered behind her gloved
hand. Rage roiled up inside him. Yes, tonight she might look as though she
deserved the nickname that some wit had coined for her, but they had no idea how
bravely she was dealing with Lieutenant Kendell’s perfidy. He would like to see
Miss Beresford’s reaction to such a betrayal. She would not get up and go about
as though nothing had occurred. She would, no doubt, make a grand drama out of
it, involving maids and her mama, recourse to the vinaigrette, and probably a
doctor or two, and then a retreat to some seaside town for a rest cure.

He’d had no intention of drawing attention to how he felt about
her by singling her out tonight. And he’d taken great care, while she had been
absent from Society, to try and deal with it by searching even harder for a
woman who would actually want to become his wife.

The trouble was, he was beginning to wonder why he’d ever
thought it so important to prove himself to what remained of his family by
marrying a woman who would impress them. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it
had felt to hold
her
in his arms.

And then the moment she’d walked in the door all the merits of
the other girls he’d been…interviewing over the past week had faded away to
nothing.

She was the only woman he really wanted.

Then almost at once his own needs were swept aside by the
conviction that what
she
needed at this moment, more
than anything else, was a friend.

He strode across the room, and bowed over her hand.

‘I am pleased to see you have recovered from your
indisposition,’ he said, conscious that others would be listening.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely. ‘I am completely recovered
now.’ It was the only way she could think of to tell him that she had learned
her lesson where Harry was concerned. That she would never be so stupid
again.

He glanced at her mouth, concern briefly flaring in those smoky
grey eyes.

‘Would you care to take a walk with me, Lady Jayne? Outside on
the terrace? The gardens of this house look particularly enchanting by
moonlight, and the air is mild tonight.’

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She had thought he would
distance himself from her, since he no longer had to seek her out to inform her
when the next meeting with Harry could take place. And, since he would also
assume her association with Milly was at an end, they would have very little to
discuss. She’d braced herself for the conjecture that would arise. She’d
imagined people whispering that he had not the stamina to
thaw
her. The only thing they might wonder at was that he had
persisted for this long. Yet he’d marched right over, the moment she’d set foot
in the ballroom, exactly as he’d always used to.

She wondered what he wanted to talk about tonight. Not that she
had any intention of refusing his request. She had never done so before, and to
do so now would only create speculation about what might have changed between
them.

‘May I, Lady Penrose?’

‘Of course, my dear.’

Rising gracefully to her feet, she threaded her hand through
his extended arm and strolled outside with him.

‘How are you, truly?’ he said, the moment they were out of
earshot of anyone else.

‘Completely recovered, as I told you before. Well,’ she said
with a brittle smile, ‘to
you
I will confess that
occasionally I still feel a little sorry for myself. But now the bruise has
healed I have no excuse not to go about in Society again. And let me tell you I
have no intention of sitting at home and repining over a man who proved himself
to be completely unworthy of my regard. I would rather die,’ she admitted, with
some vehemence, ‘than let anyone know what a fool I have been.’

Her voice was hard. Her face a mask of hauteur. He did not
think he had ever seen a more tragic little figure in all his life.

‘Fortunately Harry will not dare to breathe a word of what he
was up to, lest he gain a reputation that would hamper future enterprises of the
same sort,’ she said, with a perspicacity that amazed him.

He wished he knew the right thing to do, or say. He could not
stand to see her in such pain, yet walling herself off from it with this show of
not caring. But the very worst thing he could do would be to offer her sympathy.
She would hate him if he were to cause that wall of ice to crack and make all
her grief come pouring out in such a public place. But he was still compelled to
let her know that, in him, she had a friend who would always remain tactfully
silent, yet stolidly faithful.

‘You know, I hope, that you can trust me not to reveal what
went on?’

‘Of course I trust you,’ she said, looking up into his stern
face. She would trust this man with her whole future. He would never let her
down.

And just like that she understood
exactly
what it was that had made her aunt Aurora defy convention to
run off with the man she loved. If she ever won the heart of a man like this she
would follow him to the ends of the earth if he should ask it of her. She gasped
at the audacity of even
thinking
such a thing, tore
her eyes away from him and fanned her heated cheeks briskly.

He took a step back. Dammit, he had been standing too close to
her. Just because she’d let him hold her in his arms when she’d been distressed,
it did not mean she was ready to repeat the experience.

A friend. That was all she wanted him to be.

‘May I take you for a drive tomorrow?’

‘Are you sure? I mean, there is no need.’

‘There is every need. You have more need of me now than at any
time since we first met.’

‘I do not
need
anyone,’ she
retorted. Then hung her head. ‘But, yes, I would enjoy going for a drive
tomorrow.’

No, she did not need anyone. He’d watched her pulling herself
together after Kendell had betrayed her trust, marvelling at her inner
strength.

He would be a fool to think he might be able to make her fall
in love with him, even if he knew how to begin courting her.

But then… He hadn’t expected
whichever
woman he eventually decided to propose to to love him,
either.

His heart began to beat very fast.

Was there a chance for him after all?

He certainly had one advantage over every single other man she
knew, and that was his knowledge of the affair with Harry. He knew she was
unhappy, and why, and he could at least offer her an escape. He could take her
away from Town, and all its unpleasant associations, and give her the
opportunity to recover.

And, as an added benefit, he could offer her the freedom she
craved.

The freedom to be herself. That had to be worth something,
didn’t it?

Ye gods. He was seriously thinking about proposing to Lady
Jayne Chilcott.

‘Then I shall see you tomorrow,’ he said curtly, and led her
back to her seat beside Lady Penrose.

For the rest of the evening Lady Jayne surreptitiously followed
Lord Ledbury’s movements. He sat out the quadrille in the company of a plain,
plump girl she didn’t know. He took a walk round the perimeter of the ballroom
with Lady Susan Pettiffer during the first half of a set of country dances. And
he escorted Lucy Beresford into supper. At least, Lucy would have liked to think
so. The truth was closer to being that they were in the same party, which
included her brother and the plain plump girl.

It appeared that his search for a suitable bride had been
continuing apace while she had been out of circulation. Well, what had she
expected? He was the kind of man who, when set a task, did it to the best of his
ability. She only had to think of Milly’s description of how determined he had
been to learn the fandango.

It was as if he regarded his whole life as a contest which he
was determined to win. She’d noticed his belligerence the very first night
they’d met, though she hadn’t understood its cause. He’d walked into that
ballroom and glared round as though defying anyone to question his right to be
there. She smiled ruefully. Now she knew him better she wouldn’t be a bit
surprised to learn that part of what drove him was the need to prove to his
family that he was a better man than they took him for.

Her smile faded away. That made it especially kind of him to
continue with the pretence on which they’d agreed—that he was interested in her
and she was responding to his suit. If he wouldn’t even marry Milly, the woman
he loved, he most certainly wasn’t really going to consider a silly chit who’d
almost been seduced by a man with nothing to recommend him but a handsome face.
Who was a harum scarum creature that he’d watched getting into one disgraceful
scrape after another.

Not that she wanted to get married anyway. She’d promised
herself she wouldn’t.

So why did she suddenly feel so depressed?

‘I am growing quite tired, Lady Penrose,’ she said morosely,
plying her fan to stir the stuffy air of the ballroom. ‘May we leave soon?’

‘Of course, my dear,’ said Lady Penrose. ‘You need to recoup
your strength so that you look your best for your outing tomorrow.’

Lady Jayne’s heart sank still further. Her chaperone was
convinced Lord Ledbury was developing a tendre for her. She was going to be so
disappointed when it all came to nothing.

Chapter Eight

‘W
hat you need,’ Lord Ledbury said, the
moment his groom had set the carriage in motion, ‘is a change of scenery.’

‘Yes. Thank you. It was a lovely idea of yours to take the air
in the park this afternoon.’

‘No, no, I didn’t mean that.’ He turned his upper body to face
her. ‘You were drawn tight as a bowstring last night at that wretched ball,
trying to preserve a calm facade so that nobody could tell how badly you are
suffering. It would do you good to get out of Town altogether for a space. Spend
some time recovering in the countryside.’

For a moment she was quite worried. She had thought she had
done such a good job of concealing her lowness of spirits. She darted a glance
at Lord Ledbury, who was gazing at her with one of his searching frowns. She
relaxed, remembering she had confided as much to him last night. And was touched
to see he’d been thinking about what she’d said, and was offering his
advice.

‘It is kind of you to be concerned for my welfare. And, to be
honest, I should dearly love to return to Kent, in some ways. Only…’ She pulled
at the fingers of her gloves. ‘I really, really don’t want to let this business
with Harry defeat me. Going home
would
feel like a
defeat. Besides,’ she continued with a wry smile, ‘I cannot think of anything
that would induce my grandfather to have me back.’

‘I did not mean to imply I thought you should go home. Far from
it.’

He took a deep breath and took the gamble of his life. He knew
she was the wrong woman in so many ways, and yet if he wrote her out of his life
irrevocably, without even trying… Well, he would always regret it.

‘I would like you to attend a house party I mean to get up at
Courtlands, the family seat in Buckinghamshire.’

While she was maintaining her defences so rigidly, to conceal
the depth of her hurt, he stood no chance of ascertaining what her feelings
towards him had the potential to become. But in the less formal atmosphere of a
country house party there would be plenty of opportunities for breaching the
rigid etiquette Society enforced. Rides in the woods, strolls through the
shrubbery, picnics by the lake…

‘A house party? So early in the Season?’ People did not
normally start deserting the capital until the weather started to grow
uncomfortably hot.

Unless they wanted to introduce a prospective bride to the head
of a family, and give them a glimpse of the property of which they might one day
become mistress.

Was he that close to making a decision? A shaft of pain went
through her. How on earth could he think it would
do her
good
to watch him make his selection from whichever other girls he
invited down there, whilst discounting her from the running altogether?

She averted her head sharply while she grappled with her
emotions. He wasn’t being deliberately cruel. Not Lord Ledbury. It sounded as
though he really just wanted to offer her some respite from the nightmare that
her Season had become. He could have no idea that he was catapulting her into an
altogether different kind of nightmare, since she’d taken great care not to let
him know how very much she was beginning to…admire him.

‘The grounds of Courtlands are quite lovely at this time of
year,’ he said. ‘But, to tell you the truth, I need an excuse to get out of
Town, too. You are the one person to whom I can confess this, but I feel almost
like a traitor, doing nothing but going to balls, or performances at the
theatre, when it looks as though the whole of Europe is about to be plunged into
yet another war.’

She could have kicked herself. Why did she always only look at
things from her own point of view? Every day the papers reported more regiments
sailing for the Low Countries, and poor Lord Ledbury was stuck in England,
obliged to find himself a suitable bride—whilst his heart belonged to Milly.

‘It must be terribly frustrating for you,’ she said. ‘Everyone
who has any military experience at all seems to be scrambling to get across to
the continent and join up. If I were a man, and I had been used to being in the
army, having to kick my heels in London whilst others went off to trounce
Bonaparte would make me want to scream with frustration.’

That surprised a wry laugh from him. ‘I would never scream, no
matter what the provocation. But I admit that sometimes it is all I can do to
keep a civil tongue in my head when people who have never been involved make
stupid remarks about…oh, how shocking it is that Bonaparte’s former marshals
won’t arrest him, for instance.’

‘As if they would! On fat Louis Bourbon’s orders!’

‘That is a remarkably perceptive thing for such a… I mean, you
follow the news? The political news?’

She supposed she should be glad he’d swallowed back whatever
derogatory remark he’d been on the verge of making. ‘Why should I not read the
newspapers?’

‘Not many ladies would. I’m pretty certain that most would not
consider it a fit topic of conversation, either.’

She wondered whether that was a rebuke, as well. Except he
didn’t look the least bit cross with her. And that encouraged her to admit,
‘Well, I don’t say that I always understand everything I read, especially when a
report seems to contradict the one that went before it, but…’

‘War can be a confusing business. Nobody can ever really know
the truth of any battle unless he was there,’ he said grimly. ‘And as for what
gets printed in the papers…’ He drew a deep breath, as though deliberately
distancing himself from whatever thoughts had put such a grim expression on his
face.

‘Let us not speak of such matters on such a lovely day.’ She
laid her hand tentatively upon his sleeve, the only way she could think of to
express her sympathy.

He felt the pressure of her hand, and the rather sad little
smile that accompanied it, like a benediction. Sometimes it was as though Lady
Jayne could see into his very soul. Nobody had ever intuitively understood him
the way she did.

He wished he could snatch up her hand, carry it to his mouth
and press his lips upon it in homage. His fingers flexed as he willed himself
not to behave in such a rash manner. She wasn’t ready to think of him in those
terms. Besides, they were in a public park. He must not do anything to add to
the speculation that had resulted in that bet being written down. He wanted to
protect her from that kind of nastiness, not make her situation more
uncomfortable than it already was.

Besides, he needed to persuade her to come down to
Courtlands—not frighten her into refusing the invitation.

‘Come, Lady Jayne. You have admitted that you would rather be
in the countryside than in Town. And Kent is not an option. I am offering you
Courtlands.’ Perhaps in more ways than one. ‘Please say you will come.’

His expression turned exceptionally earnest. As though it
really mattered to him that she should be there. Though she could not imagine
why. Except… She was the only person who understood how hard it was for him to
pick a bride of whom his family would approve when his heart really belonged to
Milly. Did he want her there to lend him moral support?

‘I…I don’t know,’ she prevaricated. Was she up to putting aside
her own hurt and supporting him this way? Nobody else had ever asked for her
support. It was a huge compliment. To avoid having to make a definite answer
either way, she asked, ‘Who else will be going?’

‘Berry, with whom I was at school. He renewed our acquaintance
when I first moved into Lavenham House. And his sister Lucy. We first met at her
coming-out ball, if you remember?’

Lady Jayne’s mind flew back to that night. How she had thought
him grim and unapproachable as she’d watched him fending off the advances of
ambitious matchmaking mothers. And then how later he’d come so magnificently to
her rescue. Still looking grim, to be sure, but not in the least bit
unapproachable. She’d somehow poured out her whole life story, telling him
things she’d never shared with another living soul.

He was looking at her as though he was remembering that night,
too. Little shifts in his expression told her that he was reliving it all just
as she was. The shock of coming across her in the park, his anger with her for
behaving so disgracefully, his sympathy for all the people she’d dragged down
into the mire with her…

She tore her eyes from his and said, ‘Yes—and who else,
pray?’

‘Another young lady who happens to be a friend of hers, Lady
Susan Pettiffer, and a couple you may not know: Tom Waring—Lord Halstead, as he
is now—and Miss Julia Twining. But does it really matter? Courtlands is a vast
building. You need not even speak to any of them, should you not wish to.
Please, think about it seriously.’

Serious? Could there be anything more serious than to hear that
these
were the women from whom he meant to make
his choice?

Admittedly Lucy Beresford must
seem
as though she would make a good countess, in that she had a zeal for charitable
works. Oh, yes, she could just picture her swanning into the houses of the
deserving poor
on his estates, distributing largesse
with a self-satisfied smile.

And, yes, admittedly Lady Susan had a brilliant mind. She read
extensively, attended lectures at all sorts of obscure scientific societies and
could talk at great length upon just about any topic under the sun. He could
probably see her presiding over fabulous dinners…where she would cut the less
brilliant among them down to size with her rapier wit.

And, in spite of what he thought, she did know who Miss Julia
Twining was. She’d found out last night on the way home, when she’d asked for
the name of the plump girl with whom he’d sat out the quadrille, attempting to
draw her into conversation. A lot of men found her voluptuous curves very
attractive, Lady Penrose had informed her. And the fact that she was shy was no
drawback. Men often liked a woman to have a meek and biddable disposition.

Some men, yes. But surely not a man of Lord Ledbury’s
temperament? He would walk all over her. And grow bored with her. And make her
dreadfully unhappy. For how could the poor girl do anything but fall in love
with him if she married him?

He wouldn’t grow bored with Lady Susan, she admitted. She was
so clever there would never be any lack of things to discuss. But they could
never be in total harmony, for Lord Ledbury was basically kind and Lady Susan
was…not.

Lucy was beginning to look less unappealing in comparison with
those two. She did at least appear to have a kind nature. Grudgingly she
conceded that Lucy Beresford might not make too bad a fist as Countess of
Lavenham when the time came. She would see to the welfare of the tenants—albeit
in such a way that they would all feel crushed by her condescension. But what
kind of wife would she be? Not a loving one.

And Lord Ledbury ought to have a wife who loved him. When she
thought of how hurt he must have been when his family ignored his sufferings
after his injury at Orthez… And how he had more or less expected it…

No. She couldn’t bear to think of the rest of his life being as
grim and cheerless as his youth must have been. She must warn him what these
three girls were really like. There was plenty of time to find someone
else—someone with whom he stood a chance of finding some measure of
happiness.

She turned to him, intending to warn him that if he married any
one of these three girls he would regret it for the rest of his life. She even
drew a breath to form the words.

But she never spoke them aloud. For she could not believe he
would heed any warning
she
might give him. Not the
girl he’d caught making a total fool of herself over a man like Harry. She’d
demonstrated she was an exceptionally poor judge of character by being so
completely taken in.

Oh, this was awful. Her own unhappiness seemed so small and
petty in comparison with the misery upon which he was about to embark.

What on earth was she to do?

She wasn’t sure she could bear to go to Courtlands and witness
him proposing to one of those girls, knowing it would lead to a lifetime of
misery for him.

But if she didn’t go she would feel as if she’d abandoned the
one person who’d selflessly come to her aid not once, but several times in the
few weeks since they’d met.

‘I will think about it,’ she said, her throat feeling as though
she had swallowed broken glass.

‘Then I suppose I shall have to be content with that,’ he said,
looking anything but.

* * *

The formal invitation arrived four days later. Lady
Penrose took one look at it and let out a little cry of delight.

‘Oh, my dear! Just think what this means! Nobody who has
witnessed the very close attention he has been paying you could possibly mistake
Lord Ledbury’s intention.’

Well, clearly they could, thought Lady Jayne bitterly. The fact
that she was on the guest list did
not
mean that he
wanted to marry her. He was just killing two birds with one stone. Forging ahead
with his campaign to make a brilliant match, whilst doing his chivalrous best to
offer a friend for whom he felt sorry some respite from the nightmare her Season
had become.

‘Naturally you will not be the only young lady who has been
invited,’ Lady Penrose continued. ‘That would look too obvious. But I am sure
you are the one he intends to offer for. Only think of the gallant way he came
to your rescue after that masquerade. The posies he sent you every day…’

‘I do not think I wish to attend.’ She had thought long and
hard about it, and come to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do to
sway a man of Lord Ledbury’s determined nature. All she would achieve by
attending his wretched house party would be to make herself more miserable than
she already was.