Fated Folly (3 page)

‘
She knew it was improper,' uttered her mother. ‘Or she would not have come to you with this confession.'

Her father pounced on this, throwing out an accusing forefinger. ‘Ah! How do you answer that, miss?'

Clare regarded her feet, warmth rising in her cheeks. ‘Well, I thought he—he might take it into his head to mention the matter, and—and I thought I had better tell you myself, just in case.'

Her father shot a questioning look at his wife, seeking guidance. Clare gave an inward sigh. It was invariably Mama's dictum that ruled in any matter concerning their offspring. It was true enough that Papa was far too indulgent and fond a parent to be capable of sustaining his side of any complaint against one of her two brothers and Clare herself.

She watched the agitation of Lady Carradale's fan, which clearly spoke her emotions as her eyes ran wildly about the white and gilded ornamentation to the brocaded walls and furnishings, as if they might afford her inspiration.

‘
Sir Rupert did not mind it. Oh no. And yet the child felt he might complain of her conduct to her parents.' She sighed. ‘There is nothing for it, Carradale. You will have to see him and make our apologies.'

‘
What?' exclaimed her father, horrified.

Clare was no less so. ‘Oh no! Oh don't, Papa, pray. That would be mortifying indeed.'

Her intervention was unfortunate, for her father bent the severity of his bespectacled gaze upon her. ‘Well—hrumph—let that be your punishment, miss. That it will embarrass me beyond words is neither here nor there.'

‘
I am sorry, Papa,' Clare uttered contritely, coming closer with a melting look on her face.

Her father backed a step. ‘No, no. I am seriously displeased with you. Don't try to play off your—um—cajolery on me this time. Hrumph. It will not work.'

‘
And very glad I am to hear it,' stated his wife, sitting up suddenly. ‘Not that it will last, of course. She will get round you soon enough.' As if she feared that this might occur immediately, she turned on Clare, for the first time addressing her directly. ‘To your room, you little madam—at once!'

Recognising defeat for the moment, Clare grimaced and, crossing the wide expanse of expensively carpeted flooring, passed from the room. But not before her mother had broken out again behind her.

‘
It is all of a piece. Why Justin's fancy must needs light upon Philippa Wolverley, I do not know. Look where it has led! You had better go at once, my dear, and get it over with. Before the child plays upon your heartstrings, as she always does.'

Clare smiled a little as she went upstairs. She was perfectly aware that her mother's annoyance would be as shortlived as her father's. They could neither of them remain out of charity with her for long. Being the youngest and the only girl had its advantages.

But she could not be other than agitated at the outcome of her confession. All through her shopping expedition with Pippa yesterday, she had thought of nothing but her meeting with Sir Rupert. Oddly, she could not think of him as Pippa's uncle. Not until Pippa herself referred to him, as she dispiritedly sifted over several samples of sprigged lawn cloth in the linendrapers.

‘
All I can hope is that my uncle may go home again to Buckinghamshire,' she uttered mournfully, bringing Clare's head round with a jerk from contemplation of a length of figured lace an assistant was wrapping for her.

‘
Go home?' she echoed involuntarily. ‘Oh, he won't do that, will he?'

Pippa, thankfully missing the oddity of her friend's question, agreed that it was unlikely, and sighing, bent once more over the samples.

But the reference had reminded Clare not only that the man who had been so pleasurably occupying her thoughts was this girl's uncle, but that he had himself dismissed her like an importunate child. Seized by a fear he might betray her, she had nerved herself this morning to tell her parents of her escapade in order to forestall any possible unpleasantness.

The fact that Papa meant to apologise for her filled her with dismay, for it must confirm Sir Rupert in his opinion of her as a silly child like his niece, instead of the grown-up young lady Clare believed herself to be.

She did not go to her own room, but went instead to the old school-room, which was now officially her brother's den where he might entertain his friends, to seek out Justin. He was not at all grateful for her attempted intervention.

‘
Serve you right,' he said unkindly when he heard what their father meant to do. ‘I wish Sir Rupert had given you pepper, as he did me.'

‘
Well, he did not,' Clare said triumphantly, throwing herself down onto the ancient chaise longue, its covers ruined now by the advent of many booted legs. ‘I can't think why you were so afraid of him. He is the most enchanting man. At least—' remembering the rather less enchanting way he had spoken to her at the end ‘—at first he was.'

Justin stared. He was fair like his sister, and favoured the new fashion of pantaloons, which were skin tight like his plain cloth coat. He looked slim and graceful as he stood before the fire, supporting himself with one hand on the mantelpiece. He had, Clare thought fairmindedly, the boyish good looks that might be expected to appeal to susceptible young ladies—even if she had a preference for quite another type of gentleman. If she was any judge, Pippa's heart was not the only one her brother had set fluttering.

‘
I wish Pippa might hear you call him so,' he scoffed. ‘Enchanting indeed!'

‘
You will not tell her!'

‘
Why should I not?'

‘
Because—because I had rather no one knew of it, least of all Sir Rupert's niece.'

‘
Too late to think of that now. Pippa will have to know, because you have probably ruined everything,' Justin complained.

But she had not, Clare protested silently, as she went away to her own room. Sir Rupert had not cared tuppence for anything she might have said. But he had been friendly and pleasant to her. She wished she had said nothing to Papa. How could she meet Sir Rupert again with any degree of composure after being apologised for? It was too humiliating. He would think her a foolish chit.

She would have been mortified indeed had she known how her worst fears were realised.

***

 

‘
Think nothing of the matter, Carradale,' Sir Rupert said calmly to his reluctant visitor, handing him a glass of Madeira, and inviting him to be seated on one of the straw-covered chairs dotted tastefully about the yellow saloon. ‘For my part, I am satisfied that the whole episode was but a childish prank, not to be treated seriously.'

‘
Very good of you to take it so, my dear Wolverley,' said Lord Carradale, clearly relieved.

Rupert smiled faintly, himself taking a seat opposite. ‘You are forgetting. I have a niece precisely the same age.'

‘
Ah.'

Amused, Rupert took in the embarrassment evident in the reddening cheeks.

‘
Children!' said his guest succinctly. ‘Nothing but trouble.'

Rupert acknowledged this only with a slight nod and sipped his wine. He was aware of Lord Carradale eyeing him over the spectacles he had taken out on entering the saloon, and placed upon his nose. Above a wide brow, he wore his own greying hair, curly like his daughter's, cut short in the prevailing mode.

Into his mind came an echo.
What, a grizzled wig and spectacles?
He almost laughed out. The little minx. She had been describing her own father when she spoke of a disguise for himself.

Carradale cleared his throat in a manner that appeared to be habitual to him.

‘
Hrumph. Um—this matter of my boy's interest, Wolverley.'

Rupert looked at him, carefully expressionless. ‘Yes?'

‘
Well—um—' His guest took a fortifying sip of his Madeira, and tried again. ‘What about it, eh?'

‘
What about it, Carradale?'

Rupert refused to be jockeyed, but he noted his guest's expression turning to annoyance.

‘
Well, you know. What's your objection, eh?'

‘
None at all,' answered Rupert with a smile, ‘to your son, sir.'

Carradale stared at him blankly. ‘Hrumph. Well, then?'

Rupert allowed a pause to grow as he gathered his thoughts. There was much he might have said, had he been the sort of man to parade his own misfortunes about the world. His objections were rooted in a belief based on bitter experience, and while he strived to be fair to his ward, he could not abuse his deceased brother's trust.

‘
I know I leave her in safe hands, old fellow,' had said Edward, a little before he breathed his last. Struck down by a virulent fever, he had followed his wife to the grave, having commended his only child to his brother's care. Rupert, smarting under the double blow of grief and the disillusion of his own marriage, had sworn to ensure that Edward's daughter should not follow his own blind example, nor that of Rupert's traitorous wife.

Perhaps fortunately, little Philippa had not grown up under Lady Wolverley's aegis, for her death in childbed followed within a few short years. The child did not survive, and Rupert's grief was tempered by a guilty relief.

No, he would not suffer Pippa to risk his own fate. He rose from his chair, and shifted to the window, his unseeing gaze fixed on the street below.

‘
I think them both too young,' he said, aware of his curt tone.

‘
Young?' The scorn was evident in Carradale's voice. ‘My dear sir, if that's all—'

Rupert glanced back at him. ‘Isn't it enough?'

‘
Bless me, no, sir,' exclaimed the other, removing his spectacles and giving them a polish on his sleeve in a fashion as fidgety as it was agitated. ‘Too young? What sort of a reason is that, pray? My eldest boy was married at less than Justin's age. He is near twenty, after all. And—um—hrumph—your ward is near eighteen.'

‘
Pardon me, but in fact she is little more than seventeen.'

‘
Nothing in that. Selina—my daughter-in-law you must know—was the same. Hrumph. What else are girls coming out for, if not to find a husband as fast as they can? Not much point in pushing them on the market if—um—you don't mean to parcel them off.'

A sliver of unexpected rage leapt through Rupert and he turned. ‘Is that what you intend with your daughter?'

To his intense satisfaction, the fellow began to bluster.

‘
Why—um—why, I dare say—why, if my Clare chooses a suitable fellow, I shan't object to it, no.'

Goaded by an unformed deep-seated lure, Rupert set his glass down on an occasional table by the window and returned to confront his lordship. All he knew on the surface was a burning desire to wipe the complacent look off the man's face.

‘
Then if that is how you see the matter, Carradale, let us make a bargain. Your son may have my niece, if I may have your daughter.'

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

For a full minute, Lord Carradale stared, his naked eyes popping. Then he rammed the spectacles back on his nose and leapt from his chair.

‘
If this is your notion of a pleasantry, Wolverley—'

‘
Oh no,' said Rupert, an edge to his voice, ‘I am quite serious.'

His lordship's jaw dropped. ‘Have you run mad?'

‘
I don't think so.'

‘
Bless me, sir! Hrumph. Um—well, bless me, sir!'

Rupert's glance did not waver. ‘Have you some objection?'

‘
Objection? I have every objection, sir!' He took a pace or two about the room, removing his spectacles again and rubbing them frantically against his sleeve as he uttered a series of explosive remarks. ‘You to marry—! Preposterous! I never heard such—Objection? Bless me, it's preposterous, sir!'

Rupert watched him pace a moment longer. Then he resumed his seat, crossing his legs in a fashion as nonchalant as it was contemptuous.

‘
Yes, Carradale, it is indeed preposterous. But then, so to me is the notion of my niece marrying, at seventeen, a boy not much older. They are children still.'

‘
Then you did not mean it?'

‘
Of course I did not mean it,' said Rupert impatiently. ‘Yet I hardly know which gap is worse for a chit of that age—two years or sixteen.'

‘
Two is by far more natural,' stated Lord Carradale. ‘Besides, the cases are not the same—hrumph—not the same at all.'

‘
The one is as unacceptable as the other.'

His visitor stared in an attitude of stunned disbelief. ‘I can hardly credit my ears. There is—um—no comparison, none at all.'

‘
There is to me.'

‘
Bless me, sir, I wonder at you, indeed I do!'

‘
And I wonder at you,' Rupert retorted. ‘My God, must we thrust girls into matrimony before they are well able to call themselves adults, simply because it has become the fashion? I was myself—' He broke off, afraid of saying more than he ought. Aware of tightness at his jaw, he resumed with an assumption of ease. ‘I have, believe me, some experience of where very youthful marriages may end.'