Mary Brendan - Regency High Society Vol 1 - A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

Sandford had turned away, a painful lump in his throat, the memory of the previous day’s events still haunting him.

‘She can be rather impetuous at times,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

Charles regarded him curiously. ‘But that is her chief virtue, wouldn’t you say, neck-or-nothing—that’s your lady, Sandford. No half-measures about her. They’re all saying she’ll make you a grand viscountess, man, she has a rare understanding of people’s feelings—not just their needs, as most of us have. You’re damned lucky that she chose you—I wish that I were as fortunate!’

He turned his horse’s head towards the Dower House and raised his brows questioningly. ‘Coming over for a spot of grub? I’m famished, I can tell you—and Tiptree here is feeling mighty peckish, too, I’ll be bound. We’ve been at it since the early hours without a break—although I dare say you’ll be wanting to get back to your sweetheart?’

Sandford, wincing at Ridgeway’s unintended irony, accepted his cousin’s invitation with alacrity. Having encountered Harriet entering the breakfast room just as he was about to depart, he had stiffly reminded her of their joint promise to attend Westpark that evening and, until the appointed hour, he intended to stay well clear of her frosty gaze. She had informed him that she would, of course, be ready at whatever time suited him and had stonily agreed to his request that they should endeavour to keep up their charade for what would probably be only a few days more, until her grandfather arrived.

While the viscount was doing his utmost to flush out her assailants, Harriet was engaged in a verbal tussle with Lord

William. She had spent part of the morning trying to calculate the extent of her financial indebtedness to the Hursts and had made the mistake of mentioning this matter to his lordship.

‘Little girls shouldn’t worry their pretty little heads about such things,’ he said soothingly. ‘I am happy to stand your banker.’

‘Yes, but …’ Harriet was not at all satisfied at this arrangement.

The earl wagged his finger at her. ‘I refuse to discuss the matter with you, Harriet. It concerns only your grandfather and myself—at least, for the moment,’ he finished, somewhat enigmatically.

Harriet, loath to cause him any distress, changed the subject. Aware that Lady Caroline, Chegwin, and even Sir Basil himself, had attributed much of the earl’s speedy recovery to her earlier cheerful visits and, apart from that single lapse into tears which had occurred after the incident in the woods, she had endeavoured to behave in the usual sparkling and light-hearted manner he had come to expect of her. Lately, however, she was finding it a great effort to keep up the merry repartee that so delighted him and, although she was always quickly diverted by Beldale’s own wicked sense of humour, she had occasionally experienced the odd sensation that his lordship was working equally hard to keep up her spirits.

‘We are to dine at Westpark this evening,’ she now told him. ‘No doubt I shall have a fund of “Butlapses” to bring you tomorrow.’

Butlapses’ was an expression the earl had coined early in his acquaintance with Judith’s mother and he had often used it during his conversations with Harriet after he had discovered that they shared the same sense of the ridiculous.

‘I vow she seems to get worse as she gets older,’ he chortled. ‘Even as a young woman she was prone to making unfortunate remarks but, having apparently devoted her life to perfecting the art, now that she is practically in her dotage she seems to think that age gives her the unassailable right to be downright rude. A good many of us old ones suffer from that same delusion, of course,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Oh, not you, sir,’ protested Harriet. ‘I am certain that I have never heard you utter a truly vindictive remark and dear Lady Caroline sees only the good in everyone, so she is also exempt from your reckoning. I believe …’ She stopped and her cheeks coloured.

Beldale, who had been contemplating his move on the chessboard between them, looked up at her hesitation.

‘What is it that you believe, my dear?’ he asked, his eyes suddenly alert as Harriet dropped her own in confusion at his scrutiny.

‘I fear I seem to be growing too opinionated, my lord,’ she stammered. ‘And, unlike—certain of our acquaintances, I cannot plead the excuse of maturity.’

The earl looked at her in blank astonishment.

‘Harriet, my love,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘You are in deadly danger of becoming ‘'one of them''.’

‘One of whom, my lord?’ asked Harried, puzzled.

‘One of the great English sisterhood of niminy-piminy milksops,’ said the earl, banging down his knight with such force that the rest of the pieces bounced off their squares.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Harriet, putting her hand to her mouth as her lips twitched involuntarily.

‘Oh, dear, indeed,’ said his lordship reproachfully. ‘See how badly your ‘'best behaviour” affects my play!’

Harriet burst out laughing and bent to retrieve the fallen chessmen. ‘I believe you did that on purpose, sir,’ she chuckled. ‘I was near to victory, you must concede.’

Beldale regarded her fondly. ‘Worth a dozen defeats to see you laugh again,’ he said warmly. ‘And now I demand to know who has been filling your head with this nonsense!’

Harriet was silent for a moment then, turning to look him squarely in the eye, she said, ‘I’m afraid that Sandford and I have ‘'come to cuffs” yet again, sir. He disapproves of my behaviour and—and—well, he has given me to understand that others might find it equally unacceptable. I was merely trying to m-modify …’

She caught his expression and broke into a grin. ‘Well, if you will make me laugh, how can I possibly hope to improve?’

‘Improve at your peril, my girl!’ exclaimed his lordship, horrified at the prospect. ‘If that young fool can’t recognise a diamond when he has one in his hand, then he must resign himself to wearing paste! And I shall tell him so myself!’

‘Please don’t,’ interrupted Harriet hurriedly. ‘He would dislike above all things to know that I had been discussing him with you—and you must allow that he has had a great deal to contend with of late. I really do intend to try to conduct myself in the most dignified manner when I am with him but—I promise to save my worst behaviour for your lordship!’

‘Excellent!’ answered Beldale, with a delighted smile, ‘Although I am bound to point out that the contemplation of your most dignified manner is enough to send one into the wildest hysterics!’

Ruefully, Harriet had to agree, although privately vowing that she would still endeavour to be on her very best behaviour that evening.

She dressed with care, choosing a pale turquoise crepe gown in the Grecian mode, with its gently draped bodice gathered under the bosom and its skirt flowing softly to her ankles. She elected to wear no jewellery, other than the obligatory ring, not wishing to be reminded of that other eventful occasion, and Rose, still bemoaning the absence of suitable adornment, brushed her mistress’s bright locks into their new style and wove a silver ribbon through them. The result was one of simple but charming elegance.

Sandford, too, paid special attention to his toilette, discarding several neckcloths in his efforts to achieve the perfect knot. Kimble stood in silent reproach as, one after another, the snowy silk cravats were hurled aside until, breathing heavily, the viscount pronounced himself satisfied.

Kimble then helped his master into his exquisitely cut tailcoat, adjusting the lapel fronts carefully over the white silk waistcoat and smoothing away an imperceptible crease on the broad shoulders. Grudgingly pleased with the result, the valet stood back and gave a brief nod.