Gail Whitiker - An Innocent Deceit

Carlyle! There could be no mistaking the elaborate coat of arms emblazoned on the coach door or the quality of the four black horses which drew it. Nor could she question that the man who flung open the door and climbed down moments later could be anyone but the omnipotent Earl of Carlyle himself!

‘La, Toni, it’s him!’ Catherine squeaked. ‘The Earl of Carlyle! Oh, upon my word, Cynthia was right. He is handsome!’

For once, Antonia was forced to agree with an assessment made by someone whose opinion she would normally have paid scant attention to. Lord Carlyle was handsome; as handsome as any gentleman she had ever seen. Tall and commanding of stature, his features were classically perfect. A slim, aquiline nose was set above an unsmiling mouth that topped a chin that was firm and slightly square, while dark brows drew together under a shock of even blacker hair. He sported a multi-layered cape over a jacket of dark blue superfine and smooth-fitting buff pantaloons, below which Antonia could see the gleam of highly polished Hessians. He wore no jewellery save a signet ring on the ring finger of his right hand.

Not surprisingly, the arrival of the Carlyle coach and the appearance of the dashing Earl were sufficient to cause quite a stir in the tiny main street of Upper Tipping. A small cluster of girls stood giggling together across the street, while some of the more daring ladies began to cast frankly longing glances in Lord Carlyle’s direction. But it was not until the town’s leading prattle box, Lady Dalrymple, rushed from the mercer’s shop opposite and made a beeline for the three of them, that Antonia knew it was too late for her to try to escape.

‘Lord Carlyle!’ Lady Dalrymple hailed him imperiously. ‘My lord, a moment, pray.’

The gentleman glanced up, clearly nonplussed by the sight of a large and bedizened matron steaming towards him at full charge, and did not smile as he doffed his glistening black beaver. ‘Madam?’

‘Lord Carlyle, how delighted I am to see you home again.’ Lady Dalrymple, winded by the short run across the road, took a few deep breaths before turning the full force of her countenance upon him. ‘I had heard rumours that you were…returning to Upper Tipping, of course, but I had feared them little more than that. One hears so much chatter about Town these days.’

The Earl inclined his head in a gesture that was polite, but nothing more. ‘As you can see, they are rumours no longer.’

‘No, indeed, and how pleased I am that they are not,’ Lady Dalrymple professed heartily. She smiled up into his face—expectantly, it seemed to Antonia—and when no light of recognition dawned in his eyes, added quickly, ‘But surely you remember me, Lord Carlyle? Your dear mother and I were the closest of friends.’

‘Indeed,’ he said, though with no noticeable increase in warmth.

‘Oh, yes. Though I was not in London as frequently as I might have liked, we used to spend a great deal of time together whenever she was at Ashdean.’

Still nothing. Lord Carlyle continued to regard the woman with the utmost civility, but with no more insight into who she was than he had upon her arrival. ‘Madam, I pray you will forgive me, but—’

‘Lady Dalrymple, my lord!’

This last bit of information was delivered, to Antonia’s way of thinking, with more than a hint of desperation, and its response awaited with equal trepidation. It was clear from the expression on Lady Dalrymple’s face that the interview was not turning out at all as she had expected.

Fortunately, it seemed that Lord Carlyle was nothing if not a gentleman. The merest shadow of a smile touched his lips before he bowed to her and said, ‘But of course, Lady… Dalrymple. How remiss of me. Mother spoke of you…often.’

Lady Dalrymple’s anxiety vanished like a puff of wind. Oblivious to the slight note of sarcasm in the Earl’s voice, she beamed her delight and blissfully furthered her perjury. ‘Oh, yes, we were the closest of friends, she and I. And as such, I am so very glad that I am the one to be on hand to welcome you back.’

‘Thank you, Lady Dalrymple. I must say, I had not expected such an…enthusiastic welcome before even reaching my own door,’ Lord Carlyle drawled.

Fortunately, Lady Dalrymple was both slow to take offence and quick to take advantage of an opportunity. As the mother of two unmarried daughters, she could ill afford to be otherwise. ‘Yes, well, as I said, it is truly fortunate that I happened to be so close. Am I to hope that you will be staying with us for a while, Lord Carlyle?’

‘My stay is of an undecided duration,’ Lord Carlyle remarked carefully, ‘since there are a number of things which I hope to accomplish while I am here.’

‘But, that is wonderful,’ Lady Dalrymple enthused, convinced by the Earl’s carefully worded statement that he must be looking for a new wife. ‘I was only telling my girls yesterday—lovely girls, both of them unwed—that it would be such a pleasure to see a Carlyle in permanent residence again.’

‘And so you shall. Eventually,’ he was quick to point out when he saw the unmistakable look of hope which appeared on her face. ‘Though I do not know whether it will be in the near future or not. And now, if you will excuse me, I fear I must be—’

Sebastian broke off in mid-sentence, having turned and found himself staring into one of the loveliest faces he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. A pair of unusual grey-green eyes stared back at him from a face of alabaster perfection, while rose-kissed lips and a delightfully retroussé nose completed the charming visage. The lady’s rich, honey-coloured hair had been drawn softly up and back, allowing a few wispy tendrils to escape from beneath the brim of the charming straw bonnet to frame her face. She was wearing a simple gown of pale lemon muslin trimmed with white lace, over which she wore a spencer of a deeper yellow hue. Neither were styled in the first stare of fashion, but there was no denying that the modest outfit more than flattered the feminine curves of its owner.

The young woman standing beside her was also very pretty, but as Sebastian waited for the introductions to be made, he felt his gaze drawn back towards the young lady with the beautiful eyes.

‘Lady Dalrymple, perhaps you would be so good as to introduce us,’ he said politely, when at length it seemed that no such courtesy was to be extended.

‘Hmm? Oh, yes, of course, my lord, forgive me.’ Lady Dalrymple quickly made the introductions, taking care to conceal the fact that she wished to do anything but.

Both girls curtsied, as was expected. Lord Carlyle bowed first towards Catherine, as was her due, and then turned to address Antonia. ‘Hadley,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘Did I hear that correctly?’

Antonia straightened slowly. She was not surprised that the Earl had asked for clarification of her name. Lady Dalrymple had uttered it so quickly as to render it almost unrecognisable. ‘You did, my lord.’

‘Then…could it be that you are also…Mr Peter Hadley’s daughter, and as such, a neighbour of mine?’

Antonia was astonished that he would remember, but took care not to let it show. ‘Our property adjoins yours to the south, yes.’

‘How strange that we have never met, Miss Hadley.’

‘On the contrary, given that I spend so little time in London, and you so little in Kent, it is not surprising at all.’

‘Perhaps that is a shortcoming I can remedy by offering to call upon your mother and father at the earliest opportunity.’

Antonia stiffened, and her eyes grew cold. ‘My mother died two years ago this November, my lord. Only my father and I reside at Buntings Hill now. I thought you might have heard.’

Beside her, Lady Dalrymple made a faint choking sound but Antonia did not care. The fact that Lord Carlyle was not even aware that her mother—a woman who, by his own admission, was one of his closest neighbours—had passed away that long ago made her exceedingly angry. While he might not choose to live in the country, the very least he could have done was to keep abreast of the lives of the families who did.