Pride and Retribution (11 page)

‘They did look a very striking couple as they danced.’ Evelyn said speculatively. ‘I would suggest we invite him too.’

‘Just make sure you don’t invite the Colbourne’s. Lucy says that Lady Elizabeth would stop at nothing to see her daughter wed to me, and if it’s alright with you, I would rather marry Lady Caroline.’

‘I think Caroline de Lacey will make you a fine Countess.’ Evelyn said proudly.

*****

The rest of
November and December passed in a flurry of activities. Wilfred was surprised to receive a summons from his father the week before Christmas and trudged through the snow on foot to Grosvenor Square, instead of dragging his horses out in the frigid weather.

Higgins opened the door and smiled benevolently. ‘Good day, My Lord. The Duke is in his
study and your mother and sisters are in the drawing room.’

‘Well, I’d better see father first as he summoned me.’ Wilfred said cordially as he swept his snow splattered cloak off and removed his thick fur mittens, his kid gloves, the scarf around his neck and the beaver on his head. He shrugged his substantial shoulders out of the frock coat he was wearing and sighed in relief as he straightened his cravat and flexed his neck
before straightening his jacket. ‘What a relief, but I needed that much on to keep warm.’

‘Did you walk, My Lord?’ Higgins asked in horror.

‘I did. There’s nothing like a walk in the fresh air to wake you up after a particularly debauched night!’

‘And just who were you debauching last night?’ Eleanor asked from the door to the drawing room.

‘Actually it was a decanter of “Blood and Thunder”.’ He said and smiled at her with such devastating charm that she giggled.

‘What is “Blood and Thunder”?’ she asked inquisitively
, as she stepped forward and took his arm.

‘It’s a divine and deadly beverage made up of equal parts of Port and Brandy
with a pinch of gunpowder.’ Wilfred told her, ‘and it’s excellent at getting a man intoxicated in record time!’ He stroked a finger down her cheek. ‘Just the kind of thing every young wife should know about her husband.’

‘So if I see my husband drinking this vile brew, I should avoid him?’ She asked innocently.

‘I doubt you would ever see him drinking it. Most of us would guzzle it down in our study or maybe the library. Connors finds me flat out in front of the study fireplace many a morning!’ He said with pride as they stepped into the drawing room. He spent ten minutes greeting his mother and sisters and then went to find the Duke.

‘Good morning, Your Grace.’ Wilfred said formally as he stepped into his father’s study.

‘Good morning, Son. I’m glad you came.’ The Duke said standing up and waving Wilfred over to the fireplace.

Wilfred helped himself to a glass of port to try and combat his hangover from too much to drink. He sat where the Earl of Glyndebourne had sat the last time he was in this room. Wilfred looked up at his father, where he was warming his backside over the fire, expectantly.

‘I would like to talk to you.’ Roderick began slowly and immediately held his hand up. ‘No. I don’t mean dictate, but talk. Will? you and I never talk, not even to discuss what’s happening in parliament or with the war. It’s unsettling to know that you have no respect for me.’

‘It’s not that I don’t respect you, father, but…’ he left it hanging there and Roderick sighed.

‘But I revealed something you would rather I had kept to myself.’ Roderick smiled wanly. ‘Some things can’t be kept in the dark or they fester.’ He held up his hand again as Wilfred took a breath to answer. ‘I know I should not try to arrange a marriage for you. I was only trying to be helpful and I perhaps chose the wrong way to do it.’ Roderick admitted painfully.

‘It’s not so much that it was wrong as unnecessary. You had no idea that I’ve met a girl that I want to marry.’

‘Do you love her?’ Roderick asked softly, dreading his son would say no. ‘Because if you don’t, then don’t ask for her hand.’ He finished and frowned at the carpet in front of his feet. ‘I made that mistake.’

Wilfred looked up in shock as he never thought his father would say something like that. ‘Did you feel nothing for her?’ he asked softly.

‘Not initially. My father, the previous Duke arranged it while your mother was still in swaddling. He had decided, along with her father, that ours would be an advantageous marriage. Evangeline came with a huge dowry, which included the unentailed estates which will come to you on my death. Evangeline and I decided which estates to include in the girls dowries and the rest will go to you.’ He sighed again ‘But, Evangeline and I didn’t even meet until she was five and there was an element of disgust about the whole thing as I looked at this child I was supposed to marry. Afterwards, we became more friends than anything else. Don’t mistake me; I care for her a great deal, but that all-consuming, earth shattering love that the poets are always going on about? I actually shared that with somebody else, until she died in child birth before Evangeline and I were married.’

‘Did the child survive? Wilfred asked softly, his belly quiveri
ng with shock at his father’s revelations.

‘No.
He was born dead.’ Roderick’s voice went hollow. ‘Strangled by the umbilical around his throat and his mother followed him a day later after she bled to death. The physician I called told me she would die, because the manner of his birth had caused a haemorrhage and he couldn’t stop it.’ His father sobbed suddenly. ‘There was so much blood.’ He whispered ‘and she cried and begged me to stop the pain she was in. Eventually she went quiet and then she died.’ The horror and heartbreak were evident in his tone of voice.

Wilfred stood suddenly and manoeuvred his father into the other chair, went to the sideboard and poured him a brandy and then literally put it in his hand. ‘Drink, father. You need it.’ He resumed his seat and sipped his port. ‘Was this woman your mistress?’ he asked warily.

‘She was my wife.’ He smiled softly. ‘Lady Winifred Castlemaine was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was blonde, like Evangeline, but her eyes were the brightest blue and she had an imp like quality. Her laugh could turn heads all over the ballroom. It was full bodied and filled with joy. I loved her so completely that I eloped with her.’ Roderick’s gaze had settled on the fire. ‘I took the old coach, the black one that’s stuffed away in the coach house at Dovedale and we set out for Gretna Green. We married over the anvil and never have I known such bliss. She became pregnant almost immediately and was already suffering from morning sickness when we arrived back in London. I had to buy us a townhouse, as my father tried to disinherit me and at the same time he was trying to get the marriage annulled…’

‘How could he do that?’ Wilfred asked, perturbed.

‘I had broken my betrothal oath. At eighteen I was still a minor and wouldn’t have autonomy of my life until I was twenty five, so he had every right to annul an unfavourable match. Fortunately for me, he had a lot of difficulty with it, as Lord Castlemaine wasn’t prepared to let go of a Duke’s son and Earl for his only daughter. She had died by the time the annulment was granted and it had all been for nothing.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘Evangeline was so understanding, helping me through the grief without a flicker of resentment, that we became very good friends and were married when she reached her eighteenth birthday. There was never love between us, but understanding and trust? Yes. There is a part of me that wishes I’d never met Winnie, but I would never trade the memories of her for the world.’ He finally turned his burning gaze on his son. ‘Tell me, do you love this girl you want to make the next Countess?’

‘I think so, father.’ Wilfred admitted. ‘Sometimes it feels as if a bonfire is raging inside me and I know it’s not just lust, because after all these years
of bedding every beauty on the
ton
, I know the difference. I dream about her.’ He finished slowly.

‘And if you are anything like me they are
hot, erotic and so real that you actually wake up spilling your seed all over the sheets!’ Roderick laughed, dispelling the gloom of their conversation.

‘Only once has that happened.’ Wilfred said indignantly. ‘After I danced with her.’

‘Will you tell me her name?’ Roderick asked softly.

‘Miss Lucille Hastings.’ Wilfred intoned carefully.

‘Rufus Hastings’ daughter?’ Roderick asked in surprise. ‘I expected it to be the Duke of Argyll’s lass, Lady Amelia Burbage.’

Wilfred guffawed as a response to that. ‘She’s almost as bad as Imogen Allen, for Christ’s sake!’ Wilfred spluttered out. ‘Please save me from spoiled, petulant little girls!’

‘Hasn’t Rupert Hastings just passed away?’ Roderick asked quizzically.

‘Yes. Her brother Robert now inherits the title and I understand that the family has a close tie with the House of Hanover.’ Wilfred explained.

‘I don’t doubt her bloodlines, son. I know the Hastings come from Royal stock that actually dates back to William the Conqueror.’ He sniggered. ‘I believe that her blood is bluer than yours or mine.’ He sipped his brandy again and stared into the fire. ‘What’s her dowry like?’

‘I understand it’s fairly substantial. Nothing like Caroline’s of course, but at least twenty thousand
pounds.’ Wilfred said coldly, ‘but that isn’t why I want to marry her.’

‘How do you know you love her?’ Roderick asked gently.

‘Because I nearly slapped the Prince Regent when he attempted to fondle her at her presentation and I would be destroyed if I had to watch her be wooed, won and wedded to another man!’

‘Yes, I see that you love her.’ The duke smiled gently at his son. ‘Well, on the desk is an invitation.
I was going to turn it down, but now I suggest you look at it and we can discuss the arrangements with your mother.’

Wilfred stepped over to his father’s huge desk and saw the missive in the centre of the blotter. He unfolded the stiff cream vellum and the word
Bassett
leaped off the page at him, making his heart race.

The 9
th
Earl of Bassett

cordially
invites

The Duke and Duchess of Dovedale,

The Earl of Buxton,

and

Ladies Caroline and Eleanor de Lacey

for
a New Year House Party

to be held at Bassett Hall
,

Dunston Bassett
, Leicestershire

for five days from the 5
th
of January 1813

Shock resonated through his body as he re-read the invitation a total of three times. ‘Bassett’s throwing a house party?’ he asked in astonishment, just in case he was dreaming.

‘I wondered if you would even entertain going.’ The Duke murmured as he rose and crossed to his son’s side. ‘But after our little talk, I suspect it would take uncontrollable equines to keep you away!’

‘It would certainly have to be catastrophic.’ Wilfred mumbled as visions of Lucy Hastings writhing under his hands crossed his mind, making his manhood jerk awake and bringing a small groan to his throat. ‘I never dreamed of such an opportunity.’ He whispered. ‘At least not until the spring and their mourning was over.’

‘Rupert Hastings died in September, so they will already be in half-mourning.’ Roderick said and returned to his chair.
‘It’s not like when her father died. Miss Hastings would have been in full mourning for a year, I should think.’

Wilfred dropped the invitation back onto the desk and retook his seat beside the fire. ‘My interest in Lucille Hastings is only part of why I would accept the
invitation.’ Wilfred cleared his throat as he knew he was actually stepping on his patriarch’s purview. ‘I was actually considering introducing Caroline to Robert Hastings.’ He said stiffly and closed his eyes, waiting for his father’s wrath for encroaching on his responsibility.

‘I think that’s a good idea.’ Roderick said evenly, ‘I know you were with him at Eton and Cambridge. What did you make of him?’

‘A true gentleman. Honourable and honest.’ Wilfred said carefully. ‘He has a real soft spot for his sister and I’d like to think he would be just as caring over his wife. His estates are a little on the neglected side, as his Uncle was sloppy in his later years, but it won’t take him long to have them sorted out and in order again. He has substantial holdings, not just the Dunston Bassett estate, but also estates in Nottinghamshire, Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk.’

‘Well, I think we’ll all be going to Leicestershire for the New Year.’ Roderick said with a smile.

Chapter Six

January 1813

‘It’s rather unfortunate that Wellington had to pull his forces back to Torres Vedras in Portugal for the winter, what?’ David Avery, the Viscount Evesham said as he sniffed his glass of sherry to evaluate its refinement.

‘Well, he had to do something before his army was starved out!’ the Duke of Markham replied
and sipped the very fine sherry in his glass. ‘Otherwise he would be suffering like Napoleon did in Russia.’

‘I’ve heard
from Vladimir Roscoff, that the Russian’s burned everything before him and starved his army to death on the retreat.’ The Duke of Dovedale murmured from his chair beside the fire. ‘Just like they did in Moscow.’

‘I understand that from the six hundred thousand troops that made up the
Grande Armée
,’ Glyndebourne offered, ‘only just over a hundred thousand of them made it back to France!’

They were all in the library. Every man at the house party had congregated in the library before dinner to discuss the war
and this last statement caused a burst of individual conversations. Robert was playing the perfect host as he instructed Egerton to offer cigars as he went around with the sherry decanter himself. He even offered some to Timothy, who didn’t refuse. ‘Don’t have too much or you’ll be squiffy before the end of dinner.’ Robert murmured to him and smiled benevolently. Timothy nodded but his attention was quickly drawn back to the discussion of the war. Robert took the decanter back to the table and dropped the stopper in it with a clink. He stood and watched his guests. He was perturbed that Markham had accepted the invitation. Robert had hoped he would be too busy or distracted to attend the first event given by a new nobleman and had actually shouted at his mother for sending the damned invitation out. When he learned it was Aunt Edith and that she wanted a Duke for Lucy, he almost had an apoplexy. He told her in no uncertain terms to mind her own business and that he was already working on Buxton as a possible husband for Lucy. Aunt Edith subsided and eventually apologised for interfering, but it was too late to stop the invitation and now Markham was here, drinking his sherry and soon he’d be ogling his sister along with all the other debutantes that his mother had invited. Dovedale had two daughters, although only one was out. Glyndebourne had two, both of whom had had more than one season. Viscount Evesham’s daughter was a pretty little thing making her debut in the upcoming season. Baroness Claremont’s daughter was a striking woman of indeterminate years, but she didn’t seem like an innocent to Robert. She looked far too worldly for his taste and Earl of Greystone’s sister, Lady Priscilla Stapleton was a rather brash and arrogant miss that had already rubbed Lucy up the wrong way. Joseph Stapleton had developed the knack of tuning her out, so her shrill voice didn’t set his teeth on edge, like it did everyone else.

As a precaution against Markham’s presence, Robert and the Egerton’s had spent a long time deciding wher
e each party should sleep and came to the compromise that all the single ladies would be in a separate wing and protected from intruders with a couple of footmen on constant duty, so the East wing was the family wing, the West wing had been prepared for the young ladies and the rest would be in the large suites at the front of the house. Robert had lectured the housemaids on the Duke and assured them if he threatened them with dismissal, it wouldn’t happen just because they said no, but as a precaution, he had assigned two footmen to see to the Duke of Markham’s room.

Robert looked at Buxton, as he pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. He cleared his throat. ‘I think it’s time we joined the ladies in the drawing room.’ He said firmly. ‘Egerton will soon be announcing dinner.’

*****

Lucy was having a deep discussion of firearms with Baroness Claremont’s daughter, The Honourable Eugenia Ponsonby, when the men arrived, smelling of sherry and cigar smoke. Eugenia was twenty five and firmly on the shelf by her own desire. ‘Who would want to marry a man!?’ she once asked indignantly at the top of her voice in the middle of the ballroom at Carlton House. ‘They are only useful for one purpose. Five minutes of excruciating agony and the next heir is on the way!’ The comment caused quite a stir for some months. Men avoided her like the plague and the gossipy old biddies wondered just how she knew it was only five minutes. But the Baroness refused to give up hope that her only daughter would marry favourably.

‘I find that the rifle has much more accuracy than the old musket.’ Eugenia said firmly. ‘It would be much more useful to supply all the army with rifles.’ She
sighed. ‘But those castrated nonagenarians sitting in Parliament wouldn’t condone the expense.’

‘Hmmm.’ Lucy murmured non-committally.

‘They might as well give them all our old fowling pieces as give them new muskets!’ Eugenia shook her head and sealed her lips as the door to the hall opened and the men arrived amid raucous laughs and merriment.

‘
How did you find the roads up from London?’ Aunt Edith asked the Duchess of Dovedale.

‘We weren’t in London. The family always spends Christmas at Dovedale and the roads here were frozen solid.’
Evangeline said as she watched the Duke of Markham’s eyes rove over the ladies speculatively. Like all the mother’s present, she sat and watched just where Markham’s eyes settled and for how long. She almost shuddered when she saw his gaze settle on Eleanor, but almost immediately Baron Nairn was bowing before Evangeline and asking permission to walk Eleanor into dinner, at exactly the same moment that Robert Hastings did the same thing for Caroline. Wilfred offered Lucy his arm, of course, and Eugenia was snapped up by the unusual Joseph Stapleton, the Earl of Greystone.

Of course, the Duke of Markham was trying to get one of the debutante’s but he was completely thwarted by every male in the room. From Evangeline’s perspective, it seemed as if all the men moved in concert to protect the ladies. She almost laughed out
loud when Markham was reduced to either Edith or Evelyn Hastings.

Evelyn took the pro-offered arm with reluctance, as she felt that that honour should have befallen Edith as punishment for inviting him, but Edith smiled coyly at her and left to return to her room for a supper tray.

‘Will the Countess not be joining us?’ Ernest Deptford enquired politely.

‘No. I’m afraid Edith is still in deep mourning for another three months.’ Evelyn explained as Markham settled her into the place at the end of the table. ‘She was flirting with scandal just appearing for tea with the ladies.’

‘Yes.’ Markham replied with his tongue firmly in his cheek. ‘One cannot afford a scandal.’

‘It doesn’t seem to bother you much.’ Evelyn mutt
ered.

‘Scandal never bothers the male population.’ Eugenia said knowledgeably. ‘It would interfere with their lifestyle.’

‘And notoriety!’ Interjected Priscilla Stapleton, the Earl of Greystone’s sister, ‘after all, how can a strutting peacock call attention to himself if he doesn’t display his true colours?’

‘Is this going to be a verbal battering of the male of the species?’ Richard Allen
, Earl of Glyndebourne, asked as the first course was delivered and soon everyone was eating and talking quietly to their dinner partner.

‘I was surprised that your brother invited Markham.’ Wilfred said softly right into Lucy’s ear.

She shivered at the wisp of breath that tantalised her cheek. ‘It was Aunt Edith’s fault. She invited him, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.’ Lucy admitted just as softly. ‘Robert was furious with her.’

‘Do you know why?’ Wilfred asked and looked at her with an eyebrow raised quizzically.

Lucy knew just what he was asking and she couldn’t admit that Robert had tried to explain what Markham did to the unsuspecting maidens of the
ton.
‘I understand he’s not very popular.’ She hedged, extremely well aware that the Duke of Dovedale was the other side of her. ‘It’s a pity, really, because he is very handsome.’ She heard Wilfred growl under his breath and the Duke twitched in his seat, giving weight to Robert’s assumptions. She smirked into her napkin and promised to behave herself for the rest of the evening.

The sumptuous meal lasted a good two hours, before Evelyn stood and asked the ladies to join her in the drawing room, leaving the men to port, brandy and cigars.

As the doors of the drawing room closed on Mrs. Egerton and the maids Evangeline de Lacey said firmly. ‘Which idiot invited Markham to a house party?’ She looked at Evelyn firmly.

Evelyn squirmed and shook her head slowly. ‘Actually it was Aunt Edith.’ Lucy said quietly. ‘Apparently she decided I needed to marry a Duke, so
she invited him. By the time we found out, it was too late to withdraw the invitation.’

‘Yes,’ Priscilla Stapleton ventured. ‘Once the invitation has been received it is very bad manners to withdraw it.’ She sniffed disdainfully, ‘very bad
ton
.’

‘Exactly!’ Evelyn said. ‘Now, tomorrow I would like a meeting with you mothers so we can discuss a topic I have an interest in.’

Individual conversations broke out and soon the men joined the ladies and the card tables were set up.

*****

Next morning Lucy felt restricted as she donned her best green velvet riding habit. Instead of wearing her usual battered tricorn hat, Lucy had finally decided to use the hat that went with the habit. It was a soft velvet cap, complete with peak and a huge ostrich feather, dyed a bright green. Her dark russet inflected locks had been pinned up as securely as possible, although she knew they would fall down if she gave her mare a good gallop.
She pulled out the very thick winter cloak in dark grey wool and swung it around her shoulders.

She walked sedately down the stairs and found Robert waiting at the bottom.

‘Good morning Lucy.’ He offered as he kissed her cheek.

‘Good morning.’ She replied courteously. ‘Are you waiting for me?’

‘I am. Markham is already out with Jasper Allen, Stuart Avery and Joseph Stapleton.’ He smiled wickedly, ‘but you are the first lady to venture out this morning.’ He looked down at her habit. ‘It’s nice to see you dressed like a lady for your ride.’

‘Never judge a book by its cover.’ She said firmly and looked around the hallway before she lifted her hem and showed him her britches and boots under the skirts. ‘I like to be prepared for any eventuality.’ She said and placed her tongue in her cheek as she sauntered past Robert and headed for the stables.

‘Just wait for me, will you? I don’t want you riding alone with Markham about.’

‘Very well.’ She called back over her shoulder. Once out in the yard, she walked briskly to the stud
, savouring the frigid air and wincing as the sun gleamed from under the cloud cover. The stable master was just handling their prize stud stallion into a stall. ‘Good morning, Mr. Blackthorne. How is Firenze this morning?’

‘Good morning Miss Lucy.
I think one of the mares is probably coming into labour. He seems very restless and unsettled.’ As he closed the stall, Firenze put his head over the door and snorted, stamping his foot. His breath made plumes in the frozen air.

‘Hello, beautiful.’ Lucy whispered and blew up his nose as she stroked his neck. ‘Are you ready for more work?’
The horse neighed softly, nodding his head and rubbing his face on her chest. ‘You’re an old softy, aren’t you?’ she murmured. The stallion was an Arabian, so black that ink looked pale in comparison and so fleet of foot that if he escaped there wasn’t another horse in the stable that could catch him. ‘Are you going to breed some more high flyers for us?’ she murmured in his ear as the horse nudged her body. She fetched out the apple in her pocket and the knife from her boot and deftly sliced it in half and then quarters. ‘You can’t have all of this, for I need some for Polly.’ She said as if talking to a child as she pushed the knife back into her boot top. She gave the huge stallion half the apple and replaced the rest in her pocket. ‘Who is Robert going to mate him to next?’ She asked Blackthorne.

‘I think he is debating between the new filly he bought at Tattersall’s last year and Prudence, who is due to drop her foal in the next few days.’

‘Knowing Robert, he will mate them both.’ She heard a foot fall and turned to see the Earl of Buxton standing in the doorway. He was dazzling. Standing in the doorway, bathed in a ray of sunlight. His beaver hat shining, his long, grey, coat open and his hessian’s burnished. ‘Good morning, My Lord.’ She said with a smile. ‘Have you seen our prize stud?’

‘Bassett has promised us all a proper tour this afternoon.’ Wilfred said with a smile, ‘But he sent me to find you
.’

‘Of course.’ She patted Firenze once more and thanked Mr. Blackthorne for his time. Wilfred allowed her to lead the way and he followed her back to the
main stable yard. Polly, her grey mare was already saddled and waiting for her.

There was quite a crowd in the yard. It was excessively noisy as grooms bustled about preparing horses, riders chatted as their mounts were brought and horses neighed and stomped on the cobbles. Lucy noticed that the stable boy, Jonny had the reins of a horse she knew to be skittish in a crowd. She could see the wild look in the stallion’s eyes, particularly at the shrill laughter coming from
Lady Phyllida Allen, as she joked with her brother Benjamin, Lady Eleanor de Lacey and Howard Cuthbertson. Lucy turned suddenly and started towards the boy, but just as Wilfred wondered why she had changed direction, the stallion reared, dragging the poor stable boy under his hooves. The horse came down with his front left hoof squarely on the boy’s rib cage. Lucy broke into a run as the horse shied again, this time dragging the poor boy across the yard. The boy steadfastly hung onto the reins before the stallion’s hoof clipped his head and knocked him cold. Once released the stallion spun and galloped away through the gate and into the field.