Juliet Landon - Mistress in the Regency Ballroom - The Rake's Unconventional Mistress / Marrying the Mistress

‘Thank you,’ she snapped, putting them on as they entered the house. ‘I don’t quite understand why I’m agreeing to this. We have nothing pleasant to say to each other.’

Not in the least put out by her cynicism, he held the door open for her. ‘Then we shall have to resort to our usual mode of bickering like terriers. See you outside in ten minutes.’

‘Fifteen. Not a moment sooner.’

Ten minutes later she tripped down the front steps wearing a cream-muslin day dress under a spencer of apricot kerseymere and a floppy straw hat tied round the crown and under the chin with a long apricot scarf. Peeping from beneath the banded hem of her dress, a pair of apricot kid half-boots completed the captivating picture.

‘Where are your spectacles, woman?’ he said, curtly.

‘In my reticule.’

‘Well, you’re not going to see much without them. Put them on.’

‘I cannot. They ruin the effect.’

‘Miss Boyce, you may take my word for it that the wearing of spectacles out of doors will become all the rage, once you are seen wearing them while being driven in my curricle. Now, put them on, if you please.’

Reluctantly, she fished them out of her cream silk reticule but, because she was wearing kid gloves, they swung upsidedown before she could catch them. Taking them from her, he held them open at eye-level. ‘Hold your head up…there…that’s better. Now I can see you,’ he said with a smile, adjusting a wisp of hair beside her cheek.

‘You’ve obviously had some experience as a lady’s maid,’ she said, blushing at this very public intimacy.

‘It would be useless to deny it. One must be versatile, these days.’

Climbing up into the confined space of the curricle, she bit back yet another rejoinder, realising that she would not always be allowed to have the last word with this man, as she did with her pupils, and that to allow him to have it, once in a while, was by no means as unpleasant as she had thought. Quite the opposite. Absorbed in Rayne’s dexterity with whip and reins, with the classy paintwork and upholstery of the curricle and the prancing matched bays, she said very little, experiencing for the second time that morning the strange sensation that things were happening outside her carefully laid plans.

But the last thing she wanted was for her name to be romantically linked to his when it could cause nothing but problems and eventual heartache. Could she depend on his discretion when, only the other day, he had made his intentions plain? Would his daring sister jump to her own conclusions about their unsettled relationship? Would he encourage her to?

As it turned out, Lady Dorna’s reaction to her brother’s newest interest was to be the least of her concerns, for they were seen during that brief journey by at least five acquaintances of Letitia’s sisters and mother, who would be eager to take the news back to London that same day. Known to be extremely fastidious in his choice of companions, Lord Rayne had never before been seen taking up a bespectacled female in his curricle.

Letitia was more disturbed by this unforeseen complication than Rayne, who brushed it off airily as being no one’s concern but theirs. Forbearing to labour the point that she could ill afford to upset her mother more than she had done already, she said no more about it while imagining the indignation at Chesterfield House later that day.

Both the drive and the visit to River Court went well, Letitia making more effort than usual to respond to Rayne’s charming company if only to show her appreciation of his earlier gallantry. It was unfortunate, she thought, that the problem of her mother’s forthcoming exasperation could not be dealt with as promptly as Ted’s.

As ever, Lady Dorna was delighted to see them together, and their return to Richmond began with some amusement at her assumption of a close friendship. ‘Nonsense!’ said Letitia as the curricle swung at full tilt out of the gates. ‘One single drive doesn’t mean anything at all.’

‘Of course not. Quite meaningless.’

‘I hope she doesn’t think—’

‘No fear of that, believe me, or she’d not have married Elwick, God rest his soul.’

‘Was he a dear man?’

‘Dear?’ he said, easing the horses round onto the road with a turn of his fist. ‘Hardly. As dull as ditchwater. She didn’t need his title. Didn’t need his wealth, either. Can’t think what she needed him for, come to think of it.’

‘She has two beautiful children.’

He glanced at her, hearing a wistful note creep into her voice. ‘So could you, Miss Boyce,’ he said, quietly. ‘Quite easily.’

So quietly did he say it that she could hardly believe her ears, though she blushed to the roots of her hair.

She would have preferred it if he had allowed her to go into the house alone, but he seemed intent on escorting her into the hall as if he’d known she might need some support. With a glance towards the hall table and its array of top hats, gloves and canes, the footman gave her the news she would rather not have heard. ‘Sir Penfold and Lady Aspinall are waiting in the drawing room, ma’am. And Lieutenant Gaddestone and Miss Gaddestone are with them.’

‘Then they’ll be staying for lunch. Tell cook, will you?’

‘I believe cook already knows, ma’am.’

‘Good. Lord Rayne, will you stay, too?’ She did not think he would.

His reply was unhesitating. ‘Thank you, Miss Boyce. I will.’

‘Are you sure?’ she whispered, darting a look towards the door.

‘Quite sure.’

‘Then we shall be ten,’ she told the footman, ‘counting the three boarders and Mrs Quayle.’ Removing her spectacles, she tucked them into her reticule, passed her hat and gloves to her maid, and went into the drawing room to meet her guests. With Lord Rayne close behind her, she found she could brave Aunt Minnie’s hostile glare with more tranquillity than if she had been on her own.

Having met often at Tattersalls, White’s Club and at Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, as well as at Chesterfield House, Sir Penfold Aspinall and Lord Rayne greeted each other warmly. Letitia received the impression that Uncle Aspinall liked him, though Aunt Minnie could only favour him with a vinegary smile meant to show her disapproval of his appearance here at Paradise Road.

It is doubtful whether Rayne even noticed, being more interested in the appearance of another of Letitia’s cousins, Miss Gaddestone’s younger brother Lieutenant Fingal Gaddestone, who had been away at sea for almost three years. Rosie Gaddestone’s girlish face shone with happiness, her arm linked through his as if to anchor him to her while his other hand held Letitia’s. The two cousins had once been close, each of an independent spirit that recognised the need to break the family mould, which both of them had done successfully, but not without some anguish. Old Lady Gaddestone, Lady Boyce’s sister, had died while he was away, some said of a broken heart, and Rosie had gone to live with her cousin Letitia rather than stay alone in London.

Disengaging her hand from his, Letitia could see the kind of changes that affected so many naval men: bronzed skin, lines around the eyes and mouth, a lean fitness and a newly assured manner that she assumed he had acquired as an officer. He was now a handsome young man with sun-bleached hair, a friendly smile and a teasing manner that made Letitia change the subject hurriedly and turn to her other guest. ‘Lord Rayne, will you allow me to introduce my cousin Fin to you?’

‘Certainly,’ he said, stepping forward with a slight bow.

Both men drew themselves up smartly, pulling back their shoulders as if an extra half-inch could make all the difference.