Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (24 page)

For the next forty-eight hours the household grew accustomed to treating Jane as if she were a sleepwalker, usually to be found wandering around in a daydream. The staff, now working frantically to prepare for the ball, would detour around her with a load of china or a large vase, knowing that to ask her to excuse them and step aside would take far longer. Sophie lost all patience with Jane’s constant wish to talk about her brother and snorted in disgust when she found Jane in her room, sitting in dreamy contemplation of her wedding dress, newly arrived from the
modiste
and ready to be taken with her to Carne in a week’s time.

Jane’s excitement reached its apogee on the day appointed for Lord Wraybourne’s return, then slowly evaporated over the long day when he did not arrive. Though Jane’s dreamy happiness had irritated Sophie, she could not stand to see her disappointment now.

“Travelling is always a chancy business, Jane,” she consoled.

“But what if there has been an accident?”

“Then we will know, sooner or later. Come and help me with these flowers, Jane,” she insisted. “It was mad of Maria to invite twenty for dinner only two days before the ball. The staff are going demented.”

In one way or another, Sophie kept Jane busy throughout the remainder of the afternoon and evening and bullied her into dressing for the evening when she said she would rather eat in her room.

“David will likely come here as soon as he reaches Town, knowing you are expecting him. How will you like it if he finds you in your working dress?”

Jane was glad of Sophie’s wisdom when, as she waited with the glittering company to go into dinner, Lord Wraybourne was, in fact, announced. He was tired and dirty and still in his travelling clothes, but even before apologizing to his cousin for appearing so, came directly to Jane.

“I’m sorry I was not able to keep our appointment,” he said softly, with an intimate smile, then added in a louder voice, with a rueful twist to his lips, “I have had the very devil of a day.” He turned to include the rest of the group. “Maria, I hope you can excuse my dirt. I stopped at Welwyn last night so I only had a matter of thirty miles to cover. A couple of hours, I thought.”

He had the attention of the whole group. They could sense a good tale.

He sighed. “First I was delayed in setting out when the ostler discovered one of the traces to be worn through. Then, only a few miles out, my leader went lame. We unhitched the team and walked them to the next inn. I left them there with the groom and proceeded on a hired hack.”

He was a skillful
raconteur,
and everyone was following his misadventures in smiling sympathy.

“It still should not have taken me all day to arrive here? Of course not. And it wouldn’t have done if I had not come across an overturned stage.”

He acknowledged the disbelieving laughter. “I assure you! Wailing women and cursing men all over the road. No fewer than three children, though it seemed more, all screeching.

“I could hardly ride by with a wave. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries but many minor ones, and one man had been knocked unconscious. I restored what order I could, then sent a young fellow off to the next village for help—on my horse.

“There was a long wait but help did come in the form of a couple of old gigs which conveyed those unable to walk. Eventually, we came to the village of Hadley. There I discovered the messenger had continued on his journey—on my horse!”

He interrupted his story to address his cousin. “I hope you are going to feed me, Maria, even though I am in such a disreputable state. I am not sure that food has passed my lips since breakfast.”

“Of course I am, David,” she said gaily. “We are all waiting for more of your adventures. I am sure there
are
more. But you seem to be a jinx today. If this house burns down, I will expect you to recompense us!”

“At this moment I would pay you the cost of this house for a square meal,” he announced.

Choosing his time to a nicety, Nuttall announced the meal, a discreet nod of his head assuring Lady Harroving that he had anticipated the need for an extra place at table.

Lord Wraybourne offered his arm to Jane. “I expect you have waited in all day for me and are justifiably cross,” he said softly.

“It would serve you right if I had forgotten you were expected.”

When he first entered she had been overwhelmed by her emotions and doubted she could have been coherent, but the interlude had allowed her to regain a superficial composure, beneath which her nerves hummed and she felt bubbly and light, like champagne. She was proud to be able to converse in an everyday manner.

“I am not cross, however,” she went on. “I have been busy with my costume for the masked ball.”

He was startled. “Good Lord, I had forgotten that would be coming up!” It appeared he would be angry, but he suddenly laughed. “I find I am too weary to care. Only tell me your disguise.”

“No, My Lord,” she replied with a mischievous look. “That you will have to discover for yourself at the time.”

Once the party was seated, Lord Wraybourne continued his story.

“I will be brief, or I will never get to eat. It was now two in the afternoon and there was no riding horse in the village. The locals were most helpful, suggesting a lad be sent to various houses in the area in search of mounts. Someone even recommended the doctor’s cob but I was spared that as he was found to be elsewhere that day.

“I resisted the urge to collapse in that place.” He flashed a meaningful look at Jane. “Which was not difficult as the only inn was full of the aforementioned wailing women, cursing men, and screaming children—all still doing same. I bought—
bought,
mind you—one of the broken-down gigs and continued my journey.

“Being on a busy road, I expected to soon find another village where a suitable mount would be available, and I did. I was within sight of London by five o’clock”—he paused—“when the horse lost a shoe!”

The whole company burst into laughter.

Lord Wraybourne regarded them plaintively. “I gave up. I hitched the nag to a nearby bush and walked, leaving word at the next habitation of where he was to be found and a few coins for the trouble of bringing him into town. And here I am.”

“But surely you did not walk to this very door, Wraybourne,” said one of the men. “You took a cab.”

“A cab?” said his lordship in horror. “After today I was going nowhere near the equine species, nor will I until the day is over.” He then applied himself hungrily to his food.

All present were very pleased with this saga and began to contribute their own tales of travelling mishaps. Jane was content to listen. He was a wonderful man. She watched him unself-consciously, not bothering to eat or converse with the gentleman on her other side.

Eventually, he turned to her. “I am a dreadful partner, Jane. But I was truly famished. How have you been?”

“Very well,” she said. “I must thank you for the gift. It is delightful.”

“I bought it because I thought it beautiful, but it is intended to be set. I will have it done.”

“If you please, I would rather not,” she said quickly.

He looked inquiringly at her and she explained, “It is a personal treasure at the moment. I would not like to exhibit it.”

His eyes met hers, and he raised his glass slightly in a silent toast. She responded in kind, smiling gently.

Lady Harroving’s voice broke into their moment. “Come, you two! Why are you forever billing and cooing at the table?” With a malicious glint in her eyes she added, “David, tell us what you have been about on your journeys. We are all agog.”

There was a stirring of interest, for a number of the guests had heard Peel-Saunders’ Harrogate story.

Lord Wraybourne raised his brow slightly and looked around. “My business is boring routine, Maria, I assure you, of no interest to you except for the strange misadventures I suffered on the way back.”

He rose from the table. “Forgive me, cousin, but I must leave and seek my bed. I would not have called here except that I had engaged myself to visit Jane and felt she should have an apology in person.

“And of course,” he added, “I have now to walk home.”

This caused fresh laughter and shouted suggestions that he beware of runaway horses. He bowed ironically and left. The whole company was delighted with their evening’s entertainment. This late in the Season it was rare to come across anything so fresh and unconventional.

Later, Jane was given a note by the butler.

The scribbled note gave evidence of his exhaustion, and she thought how tempting it must have been earlier for him to go straight to his home and send a note of apology. Such thoughtfulness was so typical of the man she had come to love. She folded the note up small and placed it beneath the ruby heart in the onyx box.

A
S LORD WRAYBOURNE had predicted, the next day was cold and wet and there could be no riding out for pleasure. He called, as promised, but there was no excuse for him and Jane to seek privacy so they joined in the household activities, even playing a lighthearted game of Commerce, which Sophie won.

The next day was the Harrovings’ masked ball. Along with the rest of the household, Jane was busy helping with arrangements and preparing her costume. Sophie was in high spirits, so high that Jane felt uneasy. Lord Randal would be at the ball. What did Sophie have planned?

The grand ballroom of the Harrovings’ house had been transformed into a sylvan glade. Lady Harroving had not copied Countess Lieven by spreading grass upon the floor, but artificial trees and thousands of plants transformed the surrounding area into leafy grottoes, ideally suited to private encounters. As the weather had recovered and the evening was warm, the terrace doors were open to the small garden where more discreet corners were available.

Jane and Sophie had explored during the afternoon. Sophie declared that she had chosen the most suitable grottoes for private moments. Despite Sophie’s arguments, Jane was still nervous about the whisperer and did not think that she could bring herself to slip away into one of the corners with anyone except Lord Wraybourne, but felt deliciously excited at that prospect.

She hoped he shared the fashionable fascination with the medieval. Her gown was of deep green velvet. The bodice hugged tight down to the hips and then swirled out into a full skirt. Since all her other gowns had high waists, the form-fitting dress seemed very bold. The neckline was low so the swelling of her breasts was revealed, and a gold cord was cinched about her hips, seeming to emphasize her womanly curves. Even though Sophie had called medieval dress nunlike, Jane knew that the style revealed more of her shapely body than her usual gowns. She felt a tremor of nervousness, as if her mother might be peering at her from the shadows, but shook that off. She was sure Lord Wraybourne would approve.

She had originally intended to wear her hair in two long plaits but decided that this would give away her identity too easily. She had chosen instead to coil it over each ear and to cover the whole with a filigree net, cleverly lined to suggest that the hair beneath was golden.

When she was dressed and ready for the ball she applied a delicate touch of rouge to give her skin unusual color and placed a pearly mask over her eyes. When Sophie came to her room, she clapped her hands with delight.

“No one will know you!” she declared.

Sophie herself was not so well disguised. Her page’s costume of black silk was comprised of knee breeches and jacket with foaming lace at neck and cuffs. The feathered hat sat jauntily on her curls, but they were as clear an identification as her name. Not even her slim black mask could disguise her. But Sophie, of course, had no particular desire to be unknown. She was able to enjoy the daring pleasures of a masquerade without disguise.

Full of excitement, the two young ladies went down to slip into the ballroom. Because it was a masked ball, there was no formality, no receiving line. They found it easy to mingle, and Jane was amused at the fact that she was not recognized. How liberating it was not to be the Sandiford heiress or Lord Wraybourne’s betrothed, but an unknown. She wandered among the Romans, the knights, the Arabians, and the yokels. Thank heaven no one had chosen to come as Adam, which had happened not so very long ago. She recognized a few of the guests. Some, like Sophie, had hardly tried to hide their identities at all. But she was surprised how many people appeared as strangers when she knew she had probably met them all during her time in London. Jane wondered if she would recognize Lord Wraybourne and if he would recognise her.

The highest sticklers had stayed away, of course, but a large proportion of Society was only too willing to disport itself in daring and permissible circumstances, and the event was obviously a success.

Lady Harroving, dressed as Venus in supposedly classical and very revealing draperies, glowed with triumph. She had temporarily abandoned her vendetta against Jane, and as she had an interesting Austrian diplomat in her sights, she was inclined to let the matter slide. She had belatedly realized that it might be unpleasant for her if David became aware of her machinations. Still, when she came across Crossley Carruthers in Elizabethan elegance, she could not resist telling him of Jane’s disguise.

“That’s of no interest to me, Maria. And I damned well don’t believe you were mistaken about the chit’s circumstances.”

“Of course I was, Crossley. But even if she is no longer marriage material, she is a handsome piece. Wait until you see her in her clinging gown. Do you not feel you deserve a little taste of her charms after all your labors?”

He wet his lips but was hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to cross Wraybourne.”