Authors: Elizabeth Bailey
Tags: #historical romance, #regency romance, #clean romance, #sweet romance, #traditional romance, #sweet reads
‘
How
do, Miss Lambourn?’ he said pleasantly.
Verity was so much
disappointed that it was a moment or two before she could say a
word. Fortunately Lady Crossens saved her the trouble.
‘
There you are at last, child. Bless me, how long it has taken
you. Here is Mr Quainton left with only an old lady’s chatter, when
all the time he was hoping to speak to you.’
‘
H-how do you do, sir?’ Verity managed, holding out a hand
that trembled still. ‘What a surprise.’
‘
Ah,
well, you see, had to come early so as to catch you before you got
lost in the dissipations of Tunbridge Wells.’
‘
Pray be seated again, sir,’ Verity said politely, herself
taking a chair by Lady Crossens. ‘What is it that you want of
me?’
‘
Come to ask if you’d care to join a—a party of pleasure,
ma’am. Going to High Rocks, you understand.’
‘
High Rocks?’ she repeated stupidly, as if she had never heard
of that famed place about which the Tunbridge Wells crowd were wont
to rave. Her heart, which had lain like lead in her chest, suddenly
came to life again, making speech difficult. She pulled herself
together. ‘Oh, yes, High Rocks. It is a—a notable site, I
collect.’
‘
Then you’ve not seen it yet? Capital. Come with us, ma’am.
Make a day of it.’
‘
Well. . .’ Verity began, with a glance at her
patroness.
‘
If
you are looking to me,’ said the lady at once, who had no notion of
putting a bar in the way of her young friend becoming further
acquainted with the first eligible male to come in her way, ‘you
may take it that you have my full permission.’
‘
But—’
‘
If
you are thinking of a chaperon, my dear,’ went on the old lady, ‘I
am sure you will find that Mr Quainton has provided for all that.
How many are in your party, sir?’
‘
Oh—er—quite a number,’ the gentlemen said, a little red about
the gills. ‘Several very respectable females, of course. I suppose
there must be seven or eight of us.’
Verity was at a loss to know what to do. To accept, she knew,
must put her in the position of deceiving Lady Crossens, who would
not, she was sure, give her consent did she know the likely
composition of this
party
.
Mr
Quainton’s acquaintance at the Wells was next to non-existent, she
knew, and as for the Marquis of Salmesbury—well, unless they had
made friends on Saturday night, she had little doubt that the party
would be found to contain one small boy and his entourage, and that
the ‘respectable females’ would number among them a toddler in
leading strings.
To
refuse, however, would mean that she truly would never see the
marquis again. For surely, if she rejected his olive branch a
second time, he would abandon any further attempt to make contact
with her. She
should
so reject it. It was the only sensible course to pursue. But
Verity was not feeling very sensible.
‘
Well, Miss Lambourn,’ Quainton said, a trifle anxiously, ‘can
we count upon your joining us? Wish you would. I mean, very much
hope you can see your way to—’
‘
Tush, sir,’ broke in Lady Crossens irritably, ‘of course she
will go with you. Come now, Verity. Go and get your breakfast—for
allow you to go off with nothing inside you I will not—and then
fetch your pelisse and bonnet and be off with the pair of
you.’
It
was a relief to have the decision taken out of her hands, but as
Verity moved to the little dining parlour she vowed secretly to
confess all to her patroness at the earliest opportunity. When she
sat to her meal, however, she found herself unable to swallow more
than a few mouthfuls of coffee. Her nerves, already in shreds, were
not improved when, as Quainton handed her up into the marquis’s
phaeton, he spoke in a low tone so that the attendant groom should
not hear.
‘
I
dare say you have guessed that Salmesbury sent me. Said I made
wretched work of it at the dance. Quite true. I bungled it
shockingly. Must thank you, though. He would have had my head if
I’d come back without you this morning.’
His
words did much to lighten Verity’s heart, but the presence of the
groom prevented any further conversation on the subject. Verity put
an oblique question. ‘Where is the rest of your
party
,
Mr
Quainton?’
‘
Meeting them at High Rocks, ma’am.’ He glanced at her, the
picture of guilt. ‘Not exactly a party, mind. Had to hoax the old
lady, though.’
‘
I
am aware of it,’ Verity said repressively.
He
looked relieved, and added, ‘Set out early myself, so they should
all be there by this time. Only a couple of miles, you
understand.’
‘
Yes, so I believe.’
Apparently cheered by her mild response to his deception,
Quainton kept up a steady flow of small talk on the short journey,
the sort of thing that came easily to
habitués
of fashionable society.
Verity, though she bore little part in it herself, was grateful,
for the stream of inanities kept her imagination from winging ahead
to the forthcoming meeting, the thought of which was causing a
profusion of butterflies to dance around her stomach.
But when the phaeton
reached High Rocks and pulled up next to a carriage with a crest on
the panel, such a commotion greeted their arrival that the first
moments of meeting passed almost unnoticed.
Braxted, seeing the approach of the carriage, set up a shout.
‘Here’s Verity, sir! Verity! Verity!’
He
began to run towards them, while behind him, a little voice echoed,
‘Vetty! Vetty!’
Then little Lady
Margaret, too, started forward, but, catching her foot on a
protruding rock on the uneven surface, she fell headlong and began
at once to wail.
Two females sprang to
the rescue, scolding as nurses did, and Braxted dashed back to add
his voice to the cacophony, explaining heatedly to his father, who
had limped on to the scene, and Mr Eastleigh, tutting
ineffectually, that he was not to blame.
‘
Can
I help it if she follows me all over?’ he demanded. ‘Kittle had
ought much better to keep her on a lead.’
‘
That will do,’ said the marquis. ‘No one is blaming
you.’
‘
No
indeed,’ corroborated the tutor. ‘But, you know, Master Wystan, it
is your part to have a little foresight where your sister is
concerned.’
‘
But
I wanted to greet Verity,’ protested Wystan, causing the marquis to
turn at once towards the phaeton.
By
this time Verity had been handed down by Mr Quainton, and was
walking towards the agitated group. For a moment there was
pandemonium, as several voices greeted her at once, calling loudly
over Peggy’s wailing.
‘
Gracious, what a to-do,’ she exclaimed,
laughing, her nervousness forgotten. ‘And here is Mr Quainton
inviting me on a party of
pleasure!’
Salmesbury grinned. ‘Indeed, you might well be pardoned for
climbing straight back into the carriage and demanding to be driven
home.’
‘
Pooh!’ chimed in Braxted. ‘She ain’t so poor-spirited, are
you, Verity?’
‘
I
trust not,’ smiled Verity, and moved forward to address the
grizzling Lady Margaret, who was nestling in Kittle’s arms. ‘What
happened, Peggy? Did you fall?’
Peggy, seeing a new face, ceased her lamentations to stare at
it. Apparently she remembered it, for she pointed to the ground.
‘Peddy faw down.’
‘
Oh,
that was too bad,’ Verity said sympathetically. ‘But you’re such a
brave girl, I know. You won’t cry any more, will you?’
Peggy considered this for a moment. Then a bright smile
creased her face. ‘Peddy no cwy. Peddy bave.’
‘
And
so you are,’ agreed Verity admiringly. ‘And will you show me High
Rocks? I have come to see them, you know.’
This
was going too far, however, and Lady Margaret frowned. ‘No sow.
Peddy pay.’
‘
Very well, then, I shall ask Wystan to show me,’ Verity said
equably.
But
Peggy would have none of this either. ‘No! Wissen no sow. Wissen
sow Peddy.’
‘
He
won’t,’ began Braxted loudly. ‘Wissen no—’
‘
Come along,’ intervened the marquis quickly. ‘We will all go.
After all, there they are.’
He turned and pointed
to the high cliff-like rocks that stood towering above them some
distance away. It was enough for Braxted, who set off at once,
calling to the rest to follow. The two nurses hurried along with
Peggy, who was pointing after her brother and shrieking his name,
and the rest of the adults followed more slowly.
Quite how it happened, Verity did not know, but long before
they reached the Rocks, she found herself strolling beside the
marquis, whose progress was necessarily slow, while the rest of the
company had gone some way ahead.
When he judged them to
be out of earshot of the rest of the party, Salmesbury left off
discussing the merits of the Rocks they could see ahead, and
abruptly stopped and turned to his companion.
‘
Miss Lambourn, now that we have a moment to ourselves, please
allow me—’
‘
Oh, no, pray,’ Verity begged quickly,
stopping in her turn and showing him a face lit with such warmth
that his breath caught. ‘You must not say anything, sir. If I
seemed to you—if I said anything to—oh, gracious heaven,
what
can
I say? I
have said
too much
too many times already.’
‘
Nonsense,’ broke in the marquis. ‘It is I who—’
‘
No, no, I will not have you blame yourself.
All the conclusions I drew—so
false
—were of my own doing. I had no
right, no business saying
any
of the unutterably cruel things I did say.
Believe me, sir, if I have a fault, it is a too over-active
imagination which is apt to lead me into—’
‘
If
you have a fault, Miss Lambourn,’ interrupted Salmesbury firmly,
‘it is that you will never permit a fellow to edge in a
word!’
Verity stared at him open-mouthed, taking in the teasing
gleam in his black eye and the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Her own lips quivered irrepressibly and she began to
laugh.
‘
That is better,’ he said, smiling. ‘Now, if you will allow me
to speak?’
‘
You
have the floor, sir,’ Verity gurgled. ‘Indeed, you are very right.
I am all too ready to—’
‘
Miss Lambourn!’
‘
I
beg your pardon,’ Verity said contritely, and resolutely closed her
lips, though her eyes danced.
‘
Miss Lambourn,’ the marquis repeated, in a much gentler tone,
‘let us by all means agree that there have been faults on both
sides. How could it be otherwise? But your outspokenness—if it is a
fault—has been of immense service to me, and I am far from
subscribing to your own critical view of it. But there can be no
excuse for my failing to enlighten you as to my real identity at
those accursed diversions, as I promise you I had the intention of
doing.’
‘
Had
I only allowed you to edge in a word,’ Verity put in.
‘
Quite so,’ he agreed, grinning. ‘Or if you
had only deigned to notice me that night when you looked so lovely
and so—so
unnervingly
unapproachable in all your finery.’
‘
My
finery?’ gasped
Verity. ‘Upon my word, sir, I can scarcely believe my ears.
There
you
were,
so very much the marquis, so
elegant.
Gracious heaven, how could
I possibly have borne you to approach me after all the dreadful
things I had said about you?’
‘
Don’t.
You make me
feel so badly.’ The black eyes had grown serious again. He reached
out to take one of her hands. ‘I owe you so much, Miss Lambourn.
Forgive me!’
Tears sprang to Verity’s eyes as he bent his head and kissed
her mittened fingers.
‘
There is nothing to forgive, sir,’ she said huskily, and felt
his fingers tighten briefly on hers before releasing
them.
There was a slight pause. As Verity struggled to regain
command over her voice, the black eyes looked into hers. He must
perceive the tears there, she thought, but he remained tactfully
silent. She became conscious then of what he had said and spoke
suddenly.
‘
What do you mean by saying you owe me so much? You owe me
nothing.’
He
smiled and shook his head. ‘You must allow me to be the judge of
that.’
‘
I
don’t understand,’ Verity said frowningly.
‘
I
will explain it to you presently, but not today.’
Verity thrilled to the implication that they must meet again.
Then perhaps he meant to stay at Braxted Park.
The
marquis gestured towards the Rocks with his cane. ‘Shall we go on?’
he suggested, and they turned together and began to stroll towards
the others.