ANNIE BURROWS - An Escapade and an Engagement

And she had complained of feeling bored. She would enjoy the sensation of having a little adventure. And this time he could ensure the adventure was harmless.

‘I realized that you would be the perfect person to teach Milly a little about genteel behaviour and style. For you are not so high in the instep that you would look down your nose at Milly and make her feel uncomfortable.’

She’d given her heart to a low-ranking, impoverished soldier, hadn’t she? And she had no qualms about engaging in a spot of deception when it suited her purposes.

‘And I cannot do the thing myself, much as I would wish it, because—well, you must see how it is. Were I still just Major Cathcart nobody would pay any attention. But now I am Lord Ledbury. If I were to escort her to a modiste everyone would think she is my mistress.’

Worst of all, if he relaxed the stance he had taken towards her Milly herself might start to think she was making some headway with him. And he could not encourage her to think she meant any more to him than—well, than Fred did. They had all become very close, living as they had done this past year. They’d become more like friends than master and servants. But you couldn’t be just friends with a woman. Not, at any rate, a woman who said she was in love with you.

‘She … she isn’t your mistress?’

‘If she was, I would be the one to take her shopping, wouldn’t I?’

‘Oh,’ she replied, a little perplexed. It sounded so very odd for a man to go to such lengths to see to a woman’s welfare. Not to let anyone think she was his mistress, which was the natural conclusion to draw. Unless … Suddenly his reference to them having more in common than she might guess, his interrogation of her opinion of marriages between persons of unequal rank, and the way he’d sung Milly’s praises all began to make sense.

Lord Ledbury was in love! With a girl of lowly station. No wonder he had looked so kindly on her own situation. No wonder he had jumped to all the wrong conclusions, too. His head must be so full of doomed love affairs between persons of different ranks that he could see them everywhere.

‘Say no more,’ she said, gently laying her hand upon his arm. Her heart went out to him. No wonder he looked rather cross most of the time. He was the living image of all the tortured, romantic heroes she had ever read about in the books Josie had smuggled in to her.

‘Not surprising you can’t take to reading,’ she had said, ‘if all you have is that rubbishy stuff meant for little children. This is what young ladies of your age enjoy.’

‘Life can be so unfair,’ Lady Jayne said to Lord Ledbury softly, completely forgiving him for every harsh word he had uttered, every criticism he had levelled at her. When a man was in the throes of a painful, thwarted love affair, it was bound to make him a little short-tempered.

‘Of course you do not want anyone to say unpleasant things about your … friend. I shall be only too pleased to meet her, and help her in any way I can.’

In fact it would be quite wonderful to be the one giving advice to someone else, instead of constantly being on the receiving end of it. Even if it was only on matters of fashion and etiquette.

‘Somehow,’ he said with a smile, ‘I never doubted it.’

Was that a third compliment? She positively glowed with pleasure.

But then his expression turned hard and businesslike once more.

‘I have already told you that I am in Town primarily to find a bride,’ he said. ‘And, since our families would definitely approve of a match between us, I propose to make it seem as though I am trying to fix my interest with you. And you would do well to make it appear as though you reciprocate that interest,’ he said quite sternly, ‘if you want to continue seeing Lieutenant Kendell. Though I warn you, I will not allow this covert operation to interfere with my primary objective. Which is to find a woman who is worthy of holding the title of Countess of Lavenham. Is that clear?’

She turned to look out of the carriage as though somebody she knew had caught her eye. As though Lord Ledbury had not just cut her to the quick with one throwaway remark. After all those compliments, genuine compliments, she had begun to think that he quite liked her. But now he’d made it plain that he would rather not have to spend any time with her at all.

‘Abundantly,’ she replied coldly. ‘Though,’ she observed after a moment or two, ‘I cannot help but remark that I think you are carrying your sense of duty too far.’

‘By which I assume you mean you think I ought to marry for love.’

Yes! If he was in love with Milly then he ought to marry her, and that was that. Why, earls married widows with shady reputations, or even actresses upon occasion. It caused a bit of a scandal—but when had what others thought ever stopped a man of rank from doing just as he pleased?

‘It is the only reason one should marry …’

‘Well, there we will have to agree to differ.’

Oh, the man was impossible. But there was no point in trying to make him see how foolish he was being. Apart from the fact he was a man, and men always thought they knew best, they were only—as he’d put it—working together under a flag of truce.

And yet she couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him. The poor man must be in hell, being in love with one woman whilst feeling duty-bound to marry another. True, she had been packed off to London to be married off, but at least her affections had not really been engaged elsewhere. He could not even elope, as her aunt had done—not when he had so many responsibilities. He was not that kind of man. She had only met him the night before, but already she could tell he was determined always to do the right thing. No matter what the personal cost. Why, he wouldn’t even take Milly shopping in case it gave rise to the suspicion that the woman he loved was his mistress. Even though most men of his class would have made her his mistress in reality, without batting an eyelid.

Well, she would not say any more upon that topic. Not only would it be like prodding at a decaying tooth, but they did not know each other well enough to share those kind of confidences.

Though she would do whatever she could to help his lady-friend. Apart from any other consideration, she relished the chance to be really, truly useful to someone for the very first time in her life.

‘Oh!’ she said, clapping her hands in glee. ‘I have just had a brilliant idea. I shall be in Conduit Street tomorrow. I have to purchase some new gloves. If you could arrange for Milly to loiter outside the front of Madame Pichot’s at about ten o’clock I could pretend to recognise her, and introduce her to Lady Penrose as an old friend.’

He looked at her with approval, making her swell with pleasure when he said, ‘Yes, I think that could work.’

Not for long. She sighed. The first thing Lady Penrose would do, upon her introducing a new friend, would be to write to her grandfather and enquire if Milly was proper company for her to keep. And as soon as he wrote back, disclaiming all knowledge of any such person amongst her acquaintance, the game would be up. But there was no saying how long it might take for a letter to reach him if he were not at Darvill Park for any reason. So they might have a few days before their ruse was discovered.

And in that time she would do all she could to help the pair who, for reasons of stupid custom—because he was all bound up with doing his duty rather than following his heart—could not be together even though they plainly should be.

‘Tell me how I might recognise her,’ she said. ‘What does she look like?’

‘Milly? Oh, she is …’ He looked at her, a puzzled frown on his brow. ‘She is quite a bit taller than you. Dark hair and eyes. Strong. Plain of face,’ he said, his eyes wandering over her features individually and softening. ‘Nothing much to look at at all, really.’