The Gallant Guardian (13 page)

Lady Hillyard was beautiful and she was delighted to meet them, but still there was something Charlotte could not like about her. She objected to the air of condescension. Lady Hillyard’s words were kind enough, but her entire manner betrayed her sense of superiority to Charlotte, to William, to country ways, to outmoded dresses, in short, to everything Charlotte was. Charlotte felt it all in an instant and her dark brows lowered mutinously.

Maximilian chuckled to himself. His ward was no fool. He watched those alert green eyes taking the full measure of Isabella and it was obvious to him from Charlotte’s frigidly polite expression that she was unimpressed. It was equally obvious that Isabella was somewhat chagrined by the coolness of her reception at Harcourt. Accustomed to overwhelming one and all, male or female, duke or dowager, peer or peasant, with her style and beauty, Isabella was entirely unprepared for Charlotte’s candid appraisal, an appraisal that, for all its innocence, left no one in any doubt as to her opinion of Lady Hillyard.

Refusing to be stymied by her failure to impress the sister, Isabella turned to the brother with renewed interest. After all, there was not a single male that she could ever recall having failed to reduce to abject adoration with the merest hint of a smile. “And you must be William. Do come and sit beside me.” Isabella patted the space next to her on the yellow damask settee.

“Thank you.” Smiling guilelessly up at the pretty lady, William obligingly took his place beside her and waited expectantly for her to say something.

“You are a fine young man, William. Your mother would be so proud of you, taking charge of the estate when you must long to be with your friends and—”

“Charlotte takes care of everything,” William hastened to reassure her. “And I see my friends Jem and Tim every day when I am finished with my lessons. They wait until Dr. Moreland leaves and then they let me help them with the horses.”

“Oh, ah, how very nice for you.” Isabella glanced sharply at William, who continued to smile broadly at her. Edging imperceptibly away from him, she turned to bestow a coy smile on the marquess. “It is really too bad of you, Lydon, to deprive the
ton
of Lady Charlotte’s charming presence, Surely you are not going to be so gothic as to keep her buried here in the countryside? She should be in London where all the young men can give her the admiration she deserves and where she can find a husband worthy of her.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in alarm and she fixed them anxiously on her guardian. Almeria was one thing—smug and self-serving, she was easily resisted. This stunning creature was another story. However unenthusiastic Lord Lydon appeared to be, it was quite obvious to Charlotte that he and Lady Hillyard had once been on intimate terms, for no one, not even an Incomparable, would be so bold as to follow a man who was not a relative into the country.

And there was no doubt that she had followed him. Charlotte had never heard of Lady Hillyard’s mother nor seen any letters among her own mother’s correspondence, which Charlotte had saved and treasured. It appeared that Lady Marling, who sat so silently beside her houseguest, was just as bewildered by Lady Hillyard’s sudden interest in Harcourt and its inhabitants as everyone else was. Certainly, if the barely concealed scowl on her guardian’s face were any indication, Lord Lydon had not expected this visit either. How much influence did the beautiful Lady Hillyard have over Lord Lydon? From the little she had seen of her guardian, Charlotte doubted that anyone exercised much control over him, but he was rumored to be partial toward beautiful women, even Charlotte knew that— Would he listen when a beautiful woman told him that his ward should be married?

“Your concern for Lady Charlotte does you credit, Lady Hillyard, but I doubt that she considers herself to be buried in the countryside. I rather think that she likes her life as it is, do you not, Lady Charlotte?” There was just a hint of a twinkle in the gray eyes as Maximilian turned to smile reassuringly at her.

Charlotte let out an audible sigh of relief. She should have known she could trust him to respect her wishes, but still, one could never be sure about a man of his reputation who had so recently and so unwillingly become involved with the Winterbournes. Flashing a grateful smile at her guardian, Charlotte thanked Lady Hillyard for her interest and assured her that she was quite happy as she was.

The tiniest of frowns wrinkled Isabella’s smooth white forehead. Such an attitude would not do at all. Besides being unbecomingly eccentric, it simply did not align with her plans. “But my dear, you really have so little experience of the world that you cannot know what you are saying,” she admonished Charlotte gently.

“Believe me, as a widow I am well aware of the trials of being a woman alone in the
world.” Isabella paused to blink hastily once or twice, but as her large blue eyes were visibly devoid of tears, the effect was lost. “I wish you would allow yourself to be guided by me in this case, not only as a woman accustomed to the ways of the world, but as someone who cherished your mother.”

Charlotte did not see either the truth or logic in this statement, but she held her tongue.

“But how very silly of me.” Lady Hillyard pressed a slim hand to her forehead as if struck by sudden inspiration. “Perhaps you do not know any females in London. Why do you not stay with me? In my lonely state I would greatly welcome companionship, and as someone who is on the best of terms with the
ton’s
most brilliant hostesses I could insure that you would be invited everywhere.”

This was stretching it a bit, for society’s best hostesses, or at least those with susceptible husbands, had been rather leery of the dashing widow once she had put off mourning.

“Yes, that is it.” Isabella clapped her hands in delight. “You must come stay with me and let me introduce you to the world. Not only am I a friend of the family, but I am a longtime friend of your guardian. Nothing could be more perfect.”

Light dawned. Now Charlotte understood the motive behind both the visit and the invitation to London. It was not she who was Lady Hillyard’s quarry, but the marquess. A quick glance at Lord Lydon’s rigidly impassive countenance confirmed this. Refusing to acknowledge Lady Hillyard or her plan, he remained silent, his eyes fixed on his ward. Reflecting on the implications of all this, Charlotte was also silent. She had not the least intention of considering the proposal, but she could not help feeling the tiniest bit amused both by Lady Hillyard’s breathless attentiveness and Lord Lydon’s barely concealed discomposure.

It was William who broke the silence before it became too awkward. “I would like to visit London, Charlie, and you
did
promise to take me the next time you went. Let us go.”

If Charlotte had not been so sensitive to her brother’s feelings, she would have laughed out loud at the expression of horror, hastily banished, that swept over Lady Hillyard’s exquisite countenance. As it was, she turned to William and replied in a offhand manner that she was far from feeling, “I know you would like to visit London, dear, and we shall. I have not forgotten my promise to you, but I believe that Lady Hillyard is returning rather soon and we will need some time to plan all the sights we wish to see and the things we wish to do. It may also be that Lady Hillyard, though she knows all the things a young lady would like to do in town, is not so knowledgeable about the things you would like to do. I think it would make much more sense to consult with Lord Lydon, decide on what we would like to do, and then plan our trip accordingly. What do you say?”

William, though he found it rather difficult to follow his sister’s logic, had heard the words that recommended her plan to him—Lord Lydon—and he looked at his guardian hopefully. “Could you, sir? Tell us what to see in London, I mean.”

“Why I expect I could, William. There is no doubt in my mind as to what
you
would find most interesting in London, and that is Astley’s.”

“Astley’s? What is that?”

“Why indeed, it is the most wonderful exhibition of horses, riders, and equestrian feats that you could ever hope to see.”

“Oh, could we, sir? Would you take us?”

“I should be delighted to, and to anything else you would care to see—the Tower of London, the beasts at the Royal Exchange, Madame Tussaud’s wax statues.”

If the marquess’s ready reply to William’s expression of interest was meant as a reproof to Isabella, it was entirely lost on that lady, but it was not lost on another. Charlotte smiled gratefully at him. “You are a veritable fountain of ideas for our amusement, my lord. Have care or you will be stuck with us for a month.”

“I should enjoy it. I have never seen those things myself.”

“What? Not even when you were a boy?”

“I was never allowed to visit London until I went to university.”

The quiet finality of his tone expressed more than words possibly could have of the loneliness of a neglected childhood spent isolated on his estates safely away from his parents and the possibility that he might interfere with their lives.

“I am sorry.” The words were simple enough, but the look of sympathy and understanding in those wonderful eyes told him everything—thanked him for appreciating her brother and treating him so well, thanked him for standing up to Lady Hillyard, and commiserated with the pain he had felt and the joys he had missed as the unloved and extraneous child of fashionable parents.

A smile flickered in his eyes. “Why thank you.”

This intimate byplay was too much for Isabella. Accustomed to commanding all the attention in a room, she was not best pleased to discover the depth of communication that seemed to have sprung up between Lord Lydon and his ward. True, if she managed it correctly, he could be made to feel that acquiring a wife was the best thing he could possibly do for a young woman on the verge of taking her place in society, but from what she had discovered today, Isabella realized it was going to be difficult. She rose to go. “It has been delightful making your acquaintance, Lady Charlotte, and seeing Harcourt where your mother was so happy brings back my own dear mama to me. But, as unexpected visitors we have trespassed on your time too long, and indeed, I am afraid I have taken Lady Marling away from her own errands. I do hope I may call on you again so that we can have a chance to talk more about your mother and mine.

“No, do not ring for anyone to show us out; I am sure Lord Lydon can escort us and hear the news I have of our mutual acquaintances in London.”

Occupied as she was by gathering her parasol and her skirts and ignoring William, Lady Hillyard missed the marquess’s rueful grimace, but Charlotte did not, and she could not help chuckling to herself.

Chapter Fifteen

Lady Hillyard might have given up for the day, but she had in no way relinquished her campaign. The very next day found her back at Harcourt bearing a locket belonging to her mother that she wanted Charlotte to have. She was lucky enough to find Charlotte in the library with her brother and her guardian, so there was an audience to witness this touching piece of generosity.

A night’s reflection on Harcourt’s latest visitor had done nothing to advance Isabella in Charlotte’s eyes, and she was as reluctant to take the trinket as Isabella was eager to bestow it. As the little gold heart on the slender chain looked suspiciously new, Charlotte did not think she would be rejecting the gift of a treasured family heirloom, but Isabella made such a pretty show of delight in giving it to her, begging Charlotte to let her fasten it around her neck and exclaiming how charming she looked, that there was nothing for it, but to endure the entire scene with as good grace as she could muster.

Certain that the entire episode was staged for her guardian’s benefit, Charlotte could not help stealing a quick glance at him and was relieved to find him gazing out the library window in a way that left no doubt as to his lack of interest in the entire scene.

“Lydon, it is too bad of you. You are not attending. Does not Charlotte look delightful in her finery? She is such a credit to you.” Charlotte was not the only one who had noticed the marquess’s patent lack of interest. “There, do you not see what a crime it would be to keep her hidden down here in the country?”

“I see nothing of the sort. If Charlotte wishes to remain here, I have no objection.”

“Men!” Isabella flashed a conspiratorial smile at Charlotte. “They see life in such simple terms. They think that it is merely a question of doing what one wants in life, which is quite possible if one is a man, but a woman is not so free. She has her reputation to consider, and it is not so much a question of what she wants, rather it is what people think of her. It is all very well for Lydon to go gallivanting all over the country pursuing his own interests, seeing only the people he wishes to see, snubbing those he does not. People merely look upon him as dashing and independent, but they are no less eager to be seen with him in spite of his independent ways. However, if he were a woman, he would be labeled a raging eccentric and shunned by the best society.” She laid a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I know that your guardian has your best interests at heart, but he does not know the world as I do. He needs a woman’s perspective to show him all the pitfalls a young girl is faced with, do you not, my lord?”

All the time Isabella had been addressing Charlotte in a tone loud enough to be overheard, but to no effect. The marquess had remained rigidly apart from the entire discussion; now, however, there was no ignoring this direct appeal. “What you say may very well be true, but it applies only to the young woman who wishes to move in the fashionable world. For the young woman who does not, it is irrelevant.”

This unerring masculine logic was too much for Isabella. She threw up her hands in a pretty show of exasperation. “You see,” she appealed to Charlotte, “there is no reasoning with him. You simply
must
come to London and let me show you about. You will soon understand what I mean.”

The conversation and the situation itself was at an impasse. Charlotte had not the slightest intention of visiting London in general, and Lady Hillyard in particular. And Lady Hillyard had not the slightest intention of letting the Marquess of Lydon remain out of her sphere of influence. It was time to call Isabella’s bluff by luring her back to London, but Maximilian found himself surprisingly loathe to do so. Strangely enough, he had been enjoying himself in the relaxed and congenial atmosphere at Harcourt, and even stranger still, he had enjoyed feeling that his presence really meant something to Charlotte and William.