Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

She was referring to the half-crown he had given to Beth Biggs, he knew. She never let slip an opportunity to have a prod at him. ‘I know, but it is worth a try, don’t you think?’

He did not know why he was even asking her. He did not need her permission or co-operation. The trouble was he had not been able to banish her from his thoughts. She was like an itch he could not scratch and yet this evening he had truly enjoyed her company. She made everyone else seem flat and colourless.

‘Then rest assured, I will do what I can to help.’ She paused. ‘But that does not mean I have changed my mind about Browhill.’

‘I did not expect you would,’ he said with a faint smile, still unable to believe her transformation from hoyden to beauty. ‘But we will leave that for another day. For the moment we can enjoy the respite of a truce.’

‘Speaking of truces, do you think Napoleon can hold out much longer?’ She had to say something, to make everything sound commonplace and polite, to maintain her dignity when every fibre of her wanted to thrash out at him, make her see her for what she really was, a person in her own right, not simply the daughter of her father. Why that mattered she did not know.

He recognised the change of subject as a way of diverting him from personal issues. ‘Let us hope not, but he has so far refused all offers of peace.’

‘Do you wish you could be with your comrades when they finally triumph?’

‘In one way. On the other hand, I would not, at this moment, wish to be anywhere else.’

She must not allow herself to become susceptible to his flattery, she told herself, especially as she knew it was far from sincere. ‘I know you are needed here in Amerleigh with your people, my lord,’ she said, choosing to misunderstand him. ‘But coming back to England must have been a wrench for you just when you were so close to victory.’

‘It was necessary and if I could be sure of my welcome…’

She waved her hand at the crowded room. ‘Tonight must have given you the answer to that.’

‘It is gratifying, I own, but I find myself wondering how much of that is down to my being the Earl of Amerleigh and unmarried and how much to the returning soldier.’

‘Time will tell,’ she said, as they reached the end of the room.

He bowed and, taking her hand, put it to his lips, at the same time raising his eyes to hers. For a moment she could not look away and felt herself being drawn towards him, though she had not moved. Almost mesmerised, his eyes held hers. She thought she detected a message in their dark depths. Something like, ‘I enjoy sparring with you, but we are not enemies, are we? We could be friends. More than friends.’ Was he flirting with his eyes? Or was she being fanciful? And it came to her very suddenly that if she could encourage him, even make him love her, and then disdain him, that would be sweet revenge indeed! The trouble was she had no idea how to go about it. She had always been forthright and truthful, even if her hearers did not like what they heard. She could not be anything else. She snatched her hand away, making him smile.

He saw her to her seat, then took up a station near the door where a potted plant half-concealed him and from where he could watch the assembly, and particularly Miss Charlotte Cartwright. How could you dislike a woman you found desirable? And she was desirable, too much so for his peace of mind.

‘Not dancing, my lord?’

He turned to find a young man, dressed in impeccable evening attire, standing beside him. ‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Jacob Edwards. You remember, we were often together as boys.’

‘Good Lord! Jacob. Of course I remember. Many’s the scrape we shared.’ He held out his hand, which the other grasped and pumped up and down furiously. ‘How are you?’

‘Well. And you? I was sorry to hear about your father. He was very good to me.’

He remembered his mother telling him that Jacob had become Miss Cartwright’s lawyer. ‘And you have justified his faith in you. I hear you have done very well for yourself.’

‘Yes, I give him credit for giving me a start.’

‘But perhaps not enough to refrain from acting against him.’

‘I assume you refer to Browhill?’

‘Yes, unless there is some other villainy I do not know about.’

‘I did no work for the late Mr Cartwright, my lord. I have only been in Miss Cartwright’s employ just over a year, after she quarrelled with her father’s lawyer soon after she inherited. I knew nothing of the business until recently and now, of course, I am obliged to act for her.’

Roland wondered what the quarrel had been about. ‘So?’

‘My lord, cannot the dispute be settled amicably? I am sure with a little goodwill…’

Roland was angry. Not five minutes before, he had been dancing with the lady and offering her compliments. He must have been mad. ‘You may go back to your employer and tell her that when she shows a little goodwill over the matter, I might reciprocate. And, may I add, a country dance is not the place to air legal matters.’

‘Then I beg your pardon. I spoke out of respect for our past friendship and a wish to prevent the expenditure of time and money that could be better spent elsewhere.’

Oh, how he agreed with that sentiment, but he had no intention of letting the other know it. ‘How I spend my time and money is up to me,’ he said. ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’ And with that he left him to join his hostess. The evening was drawing to a close and already some of the guests were taking their leave, so he felt justified in bidding his adieus . He knew he was being impulsive and erratic, but he did not seem able to help it. Charlotte Cartwright was making him like that.

The departure of his lordship caused something of a stir, and there was not a little consternation among the young ladies and their mamas, but Lady Brandon was quietly triumphant. He had danced with Martha and, having done that, there was no point in him staying and raising anyone’s hopes only to dash them again. It was all coming about as she intended, so she told Charlotte, who had watched the Earl depart with a sinking heart. She was thankful when the evening was brought to a close and she was able to go home.

Chapter Four

Late as she had been in returning home and going to bed, Charlotte could not sleep and soon after dawn she rose and dressed. She had to be outside—the air indoors was stifling her. She went downstairs to the kitchen where May was raking out the fire ready to relight it. Mrs Cater had just appeared and was tying an apron round her plump middle.

‘Miss Charlotte, you are never going out before breakfast.’

‘I am not hungry,’ Charlotte said truthfully, making for outside door. ‘I am going riding.’

‘But ’tis raining cats and dogs.’

‘Is it?’ She opened the door as she spoke and a gust of wind and rain blew in. Hurriedly she shut the door again. ‘So it is.’

‘Sit down and have some breakfast with us. You can tell us all about Lady Brandon’s soirée. How many were there? Was it very fine? And the Earl, did he single anyone out?’

A real lady would not have dreamed of sitting down with the servants, but Charlotte had always been free and easy with Mrs Cater, who had befriended her when she was a lonely child and defended her against the governess of the day, and so she took her seat at the kitchen table.

‘It was a very grand affair, much grander than a soirée,’ she said, and went on to describe who was there and what they wore, who danced with whom as far as she could remember, the decorations and the food and drink. But they really wanted to hear about the Earl and her voice shook whenever she mentioned his name. It was going to be very, very difficult to live so close and meet him on almost a daily basis and yet maintain her cold dislike of him. He was not an easy man to dislike, with his innate good manners and cheerful disposition, except when he was talking about Browhill. Then he changed and became intractable. Why was she constantly thinking about him? Since he had returned to Amerleigh she did not seem able to think of anything else.