His Lordship's Chaperone
Read His Lordship's Chaperone Online
Authors: Shirley Marks
His Lordship’s Chaperone
Shirley Marks
To the Vernon Girls—Jenny, Linda, and Kathy
along with our newcomers Evelyn and Serena
Thank
you for your years of input,
the acute turning of your “fresh ears,”
and the weekly dedication to improve our stories.
Where would we be without a Reality Check!
As always … to my darling husband
Contents
Robert Moreland, the Marquess of Haverton, stood in
Lord Brayburn’s library for what he thought was a moment of solitude. He was
not alone. Lady Joanna had been hiding in the darkened corner, working up the
courage to finally speak.
“Is there something in particular I can help you
look for, my lord?” It took her another few minutes until she mustered the
nerve to touch him. She ran her hand up his sleeve before acquiring the
ultimate audacity to slide into his arms. “My father owns some fine leather-bound
Shakespeare volumes and many ancient history studies if that is where your
interests lie.”
“I’m finding much more than I ever expected.”
Lady Joanna was not referring to reading material;
neither was he. What else could he say? Anything more would have been
presumptuous. Anything less an insult.
Haverton smiled. He knew exactly why she was here.
It was not that he found her at all unpleasant. Lady Joanna was quite lovely
and the Marquess could well appreciate her charms. However there would be no
time for that. By the sound of the approaching footsteps, reinforcements were
on their way. He and Lady Joanna would not be alone for much longer.
“Thank you for your kind invitation but I fear I
must decline.” He stepped away from her and moved toward the window, leaving
Lady Joanna to stare expectantly at the door. Haverton gripped the window
frame
and pulled himself outside onto the ledge.
“Ah ha!” cried Lady Brayburn, bursting into the
room with Lady Joanna’s discarded chaperone trailing.
“I told you Lady Joanna should not have been left
alone, my lady!” the chaperone scolded. “What if some gentleman had trapped her
behind closed doors and had his evil way with her?”
If Haverton had not been mistaken, that is
precisely what Lady Brayburn had been hoping. Lady Joanna had done her best to
tempt him but her stilted behavior told him she was a mere innocent following
instructions—most likely her mother’s.
“Well … where is he?” Lady Brayburn sounded most
anxious and very cross.
“He’s gone, Mama.” Lady Joanna’s failure was apparent
in her voice.
“Lord Haverton could not have gone far. He was here
just a moment ago.”
The thumping and shuffling from inside told the
Marquess the ladies were busy searching the room, looking around the furniture
and behind the window draperies.
“Did you make yourself available to him?” asked
Lady Brayburn.
“Yes, Mama, I did. I allowed him to—to—I did just
as you told me.”
“How could he have refused your invitation?”
“I do not know, Mama.”
“Did you approach him as I showed you?”
It was astounding what a mother would have her
daughter do to snag a husband. This had been by far the most outrageous.
“Yes, Mama, I did. He seemed to be taken with me
for the moment,” Lady Joanna sounded on the verge of tears, “and I tried to
just as you instructed me, Mama.”
“What is wrong with the man? You gave him every
opportunity to—”
“My lady!” the chaperone squeaked.
Lady Joanna’s sobbing overrode her answer.
Too bad Lady Brayburn had missed her daughter’s
performance—it had been quite a spectacle. Haverton chuckled, momentarily
forgetting the necessity that he remain quiet. After all, he was hiding.
As amusing as it was to listen to the disappointed
women, Haverton had to get back to the gathering
belowstairs
.
Lady Brayburn might get the idea to look out the window. Then where would he
be?
He shuffled across the ledge to the room next door.
Jumping in, he landed quite neatly on the edge of the Persian carpet. Haverton
took a few moments to compose himself. He smoothed back his hair, adjusted his
cravat and straightened his coat. Checking to make sure the hallway was clear
before stepping out of his hiding place, the Marquess headed for the main
drawing room.
It seemed his popularity grew as time passed. Year
by year the number of bachelors in Town grew smaller. Marriage was a fate they
all faced, he supposed. However this business of trapping him for marriage was
becoming very tiresome indeed.
This had been the worst year yet and the Season had
two weeks before it officially started. This year, he swore to himself, steps
needed to be taken to prevent another such incident from occurring. He needed
to do something to keep from always having to hide from or avoid the
fortune-hunting ladies, matchmaking mamas, and assorted forward females.
For all the pleasure a gentleman could derive from
women, ladies made his life a living hell. Without question, something would
have to be done.
In one of the corners of the main drawing room,
Lady Stratton chuckled and proceeded with her story. “After all the guests had
left, it seems Lord Haverton dressed up as one of the footmen and slipped back
into the house. Lady Firth had already gone to bed. As I hear it, Lord Firth
was busy working late in his study.”
“Had they arranged it all at the party?” Lady Clare
inquired from behind her open fan.
“I cannot be sure,” Lady Stratton continued.
“Although I hear tell there had been some shameless flirting between them
during dinner.”
“I’ve heard that he’s broken off with Mrs. Cummings-Albright,”
Mrs. Baldwin added. “It happened last year at the end of the Season.”
“No wonder he’s so bold. Lack of female
companionship will do that to a man,” Lady Clare replied knowingly.
Lady Stratton and Mrs. Baldwin froze and stared at
Lady Clare.
“And how would you know?” Mrs. Baldwin asked. “Have
you, by chance, had a rendezvous with him?”
Lady Clare blushed. “Of course not! But don’t we
all wish we could?” She giggled like an empty-headed schoolgirl. The other two
ladies didn’t behave much better. They chuckled too.
Stuff and nonsense. The Duchess of Waverly wished
she had stepped away from the trio the first time she heard her son’s name
mentioned. Why had she insisted on listening to the gossip? Gossip was just
that—gossip. No real facts were involved, she reminded herself. Except she knew
there was always some shred of truth in any rumor.
The Duchess knew Robert had wintered in Sussex. A
few months before, he had courted Mrs. Cummings-Albright and a few months later
they parted company. In the Lady Firth fiction, the one piece of truth might
have been that Robert had attended a dinner party at the Firth Lodge without
Mrs. Cummings-Albright.
The rest of the overblown tale—sneaking into the
house after hours—could be just pure speculation or some bit of wishful
thinking on the part of Lady Firth. Anyone, any female that is, would delight
in any type of an association with the Duchess’ rich, charming, and handsome
son.
Which brought her to lament that Robert was much
too rich, extremely too charming, and far too handsome for his own good. Although
he had managed to handle the combination well, he tended to take most things
for granted. That was his problem. He could do whatever he liked with whomever
he wished.
Yes, she mused, things came much too easy for him.
What his life needed was stability and direction. He had only a few more years
before he reached the age of thirty. It was certainly time he provided an heir.
Each and every Season that passed she had insisted he find a bride but this was
the year the Duchess expected results.
It was high time Robert married.
Haverton stood in the doorway of the main drawing
room and observed the members of the ton. Couples danced and, off to the side,
others held private conversations. Across the room in another corner sat the
dowagers, companions, and abandoned chaperones. Chaperones whose charges had
escaped their attention, no doubt.
How many poor fools would fall prey to some
female’s set of contrived circumstances? Not all men were as well practiced as
he at avoiding the modern day female. Keeping company with a married woman or a
young widow was far preferable to any milk and water miss.
He understood society’s rules concerning
safeguarding innocent girls, but their chaperones were discarded at a time
when, he believed, they were most needed. It seemed to him that chaperones were
more useful protecting a gentleman’s freedom. Haverton stilled when the idea
struck him.
Chaperones.
But of course, why hadn’t he thought of this
before?
If the women of London insisted on leaving their
chaperones behind, he saw no alternative but to supply one of his own. Make no
mistake, it would not be for the ladies but for his own protection.
A brilliant, if not novel, notion and an entirely
sound course of action. Nothing he could do about it presently. He could
proceed first thing tomorrow—that was, if he could survive tonight.
“There you are, Robert.”
Haverton nearly jumped out of his skin when his
brother called out to him.
“I’m sorry.” Simon clapped Haverton on the
shoulder. “I didn’t expect to scare you.”
“I thought you might be someone else.”
“Who were you expecting?”
“Lord Brayburn,” Haverton confessed with a whisper.
“Good Gad, why?”
Haverton ran his hand down his waistcoat, smoothing
any imperfections he might have missed. “His daughter, Lady Joanna, managed to
corner me in his library.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “I thought you knew better
than to wander off by yourself.”
“I needed to get away for just a bit.” Haverton
squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing himself
for the torment that was sure to follow. “I thought I had seen enough of
tonight’s festivities. Apparently I hadn’t seen enough. While in the library,
Lady Joanna arrived and did her best to find a diversion to the merriment of
the ballroom.”
Simon laughed.
“And while I freely admit that she is a diamond of
the first water, Lord Brayburn’s library does not inspire me as the proper
place for cultivating romance.” Experience told Haverton that nothing would
halt his brother’s outburst. He had to stand there and tolerate it or make a
scene fleeing. His early departure would certainly cause nothing short of a
scandal.
“She’s quite a fetching thing. I think you would
have dug your heels in and enjoyed yourself.”
“On the contrary, I escaped and managed to keep my
virtue intact.” Haverton’s reply brought a fresh bout of laughter from his
brother. “Had I not been on the alert, I would have been caught in that neat
web designed by Lady Brayburn.”
“Good thing you’re fleet of foot.”
“Yes, but the years are catching up.” He sighed and
tried to sound as tired and aged as possible. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“You managed to escape quite unharmed,” Simon said,
sounding wholly unsympathetic.
“For the moment but I did sustain a superficial
injury.” Haverton felt for the small torn seam under his arm. “Another incident
such as that and I’ll be reduced to my shirtsleeves. What is it about desperate
women?”
“As I understand it, this will be her second
Season. I’m of the opinion that Lady Brayburn expects her daughter to marry
this year. If she’s after you, then she wishes her daughter to marry well.”
Haverton glanced around the room, checking to see
if Lady Brayburn and Lady Joanna had returned. “Fine. All the best to her I
say. I’ll be more than glad to wish the couple happy and to attend their
ceremony. But she’ll not wed me.”
“How do you do it, Robert? How do you fight off the
scores of women who relentlessly hound you at these affairs? Gad, I don’t have
half the problem you do.”
“You exaggerate, Simon. I am not pursued by scores
of women.”
“From what I understand, it’s when you single them
out you get into trouble.” Simon’s laughter diminished to a mild chuckle under
Haverton’s quelling gaze. “I’ve heard that you’ve been busy since I saw you
last at father’s hunting lodge at the end of last year.”
Haverton raised his eyebrow and regarded Simon
skeptically. “I dread to ask it but what exactly have you heard?”
“Something about you attending a dinner party and
sneaking back into the house for a very early morning rendezvous with the
hostess after all the guests had left.” Simon shook his finger at his brother.
“I thought you knew better than to tryst with the lady of the house. Shows
extremely bad form, lack of respect to your host and that sort of thing.”
“Simon, I thought you’d know better than to listen
to idle gossip. And the facts are very, very wrong.” Haverton laughed, but the
twisted tale really wasn’t funny—just the abstract turn it had taken. “The
truth of the matter was I tried to sneak out, not in. Lady Firth was the one
who locked me in her closet, saving me for dessert.” He exhaled in
exasperation. “What’s the use? I think you would know me well enough. Would I
really do such a thing?”
“I thought there might be a rational explanation. I
just wanted to see the look on your face when you discovered what’s being said
about you.”
