Helen Dickson - Regency - Innocents & Intrigues - Marrying Miss Monkton / Beauty in Breeches

‘Here he is. Very soon we shall be on the road.’

Maria stared at him. ‘You mean—that fine-looking carriage belongs to you?’

‘It does—and I am sure you will find it a good deal more comfortable than the conveyance we travelled in to Calais.’

When the horses had been rested and fed, the coachman put up the steps and closed the door, and with scarcely any sensation of motion, the well-sprung travelling chaise glided along the road behind the four prancing greys.

Maria glanced about her, admiring the crystal lamps and the heavy silver door handles and the soft dove-grey upholstery. Luxuriating in the unexpected comfort of the spacious conveyance, she looked across at her companion, who had his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was gazing morosely out of the window. Immediately she was filled with contrition. What a nuisance all this must be for him and how he must be cursing Henry for not coming to Dover to meet her.

‘I hate inconveniencing you like this, Charles,’ she said softly. ‘Will you stay long at Highgate?’

He flicked a glance in her direction. ‘I haven’t made up my mind. It depends what I find when I get there. Hopefully things will be as they were when I left for France. I have to go to London anyway. I have pressing matters and important people to see.’

‘Has it anything to do with you being in France?’ she dared to ask, expecting a rebuff.

She was surprised when he fixed her with a level look and said, ‘To satisfy your curiosity, Maria, now it is safe to do so I can tell you that I went to France on the request of some members of the government to see and report on the general order of things in Paris. Like everyone else in England, the government is horrified about what is happening—the massacres and the burning of properties. Those with a vested interest in the social order are seriously worried that revolutionary ideas will spread to Britain.’

Maria stared at him wide-eyed in astonishment. ‘Good gracious! So you are a paid spy in the employ of the British government. How exciting—though highly dangerous,’ she finished on a more sombre note.

His eyes hardened and a thin, cynical smile curved his lips. ‘You needn’t appear so surprised, Maria. You had me cast in the role of spy from the first.’

‘In all truth I didn’t know what to think. I’m just relieved things have turned out the way they have—that France is behind us. What will happen in the end, do you think?’

‘That depends on what you mean by the end.’

‘When all the rioting and burning of noble houses and the killing has ended. Will France get her republic?’

‘I believe it will.’

When he made no attempt to converse further with her, Maria sensed that he was grappling with some sort of weighty problem, and she let the silence continue, content to watch the passing scenery roll past the windows.

Arriving at Highgate they were admitted through the tall gates of the estate where Charles lived. The warm mellow brick manor house stood proudly against a backdrop of sprawling parkland as they drove up the gracefully curving drive.

Maria looked around in approval. ‘What a lovely house.’

‘I agree—but then I would. It’s been in my family for generations.’

They stepped out of the carriage and climbed the wide flight of stone steps to the massive door. Before they reached it it was opened by a stiff-faced man dressed in dark blue and gold livery. His face relaxed with pleasure when he saw who had arrived.

‘Sir Charles! It’s good to see you back.’

Charles lifted a hand in an invitation for Maria to precede him. ‘Thank you, Jesson,’ he said, striding past him and nodding at Mrs Moor, the housekeeper at Highgate. ‘It’s good to be home. How is my mother?’

‘Lady Osbourne left for London last month, Sir Charles. She was quite well when she left. She said she was tired of the country and was missing her friends.’

‘I see. Then I shall see her there. We are on our way to London. When we have eaten and the horses have rested we’ll continue with our journey. Is there anything I need to attend to while I am here?’

‘I don’t think so, sir. Mr Parry has everything running like clockwork. There is some private correspondence that needs attending to.’

‘I’ll take it with me and deal with it in London. Mark Parry is my bailiff,’ Charles explained to Maria. ‘He is highly competent and I don’t know what I’d do without him. Have cook prepare a meal for us, Mrs Moor—and if you could, show Miss Monkton to a room. I’m sure you would like to freshen up before we eat,’ he said, looking at Maria. His gaze passed over her attire and his expression became one of distaste.

‘I think it’s time you disposed of that dress. I’m sure Mrs Moor can find you something else to wear. My sisters both have dresses stashed somewhere. I think Georgina is more your size. There’s bound to be something that will suit. For safety’s sake, Miss Monkton was forced to leave everything in France in a hurry,’ he explained to his housekeeper.

‘Which is why I appear before you dressed as a peasant,’ Maria said, looking with mock dismay at her dismal attire. ‘I assure you I don’t normally look like this.’

Mrs Moor faced Maria with a cheery smile. ‘Come with me, Miss Monkton. I’ll see what I can find.’

And she did. Attired in a delicate lemon gown, the long tresses of her hair pulled from her face and left to fall down her back beneath trails of lemon ribbon, Maria entered the drawing room like a fresh breeze, sweeping in through the door.

Seated by the window flicking through some correspondence, Charles quickly came to his feet in appreciation of her dazzling beauty. His gaze slid boldly over her, from the top of her shining head to her swelling breasts beneath the bodice of her gown and right down to her feet. Maria was accustomed to the admiring glances of gentlemen, but there was nothing gentlemanly about Charles’s lazy perusal of her body.

‘Are you quite finished?’ she asked tersely.

His unhurried gaze lifted to her eyes and a wry smile quirked his stern lips when he heard the exasperation in her voice. Perhaps she resented him suggesting she shed her unflattering black gown that had seen better days on her maid. ‘I was merely admiring the transformation, Maria. You look quite radiant.’

She had been lovely before, but he hadn’t expected her to blossom into a full-fledged beauty simply by changing her gown. When she reached London she would dazzle society’s gentlemen. And therein lay his problem, for she was a complete innocent, an inexperienced innocent in his charge, and for whom he was responsible. The image of himself as guardian of her virtue—not forgetting her fortune—was so ludicrous it was laughable. But that was the role he would be forced to play when Maria had sent Henry Winston packing—which she would, when she laid eyes on his gross bulk, and she was truly alone.

‘Now come and eat. I would like to resume our journey as soon as possible if we are to reach London before dark.’

Feeling slightly mellow and in good spirits after partaking of a delicious meal, happy that Charles’s sombre mood had lightened somewhat with the food and wine, when they had left Highgate and were settled once more in the carriage, not wishing to impose on Charles any longer and impatient to see Henry so she could take stock and do what she thought was necessary, Maria ventured to ask, ‘Will you take me straight to wherever it is that Henry lives when we reach London?’ She smiled, and, without giving him chance to reply, went on, ‘Don’t you find it strange that I have no idea where that is?’ Charles merely gave her a wry smile. ‘Whenever I wrote to him I always sent the letters to his address in India.’ She looked at him sideways. ‘Where does he live now he’s left the company and is back in England, Charles?’