Isabelle Goddard - The Earl Plays With Fire

Christabel allowed herself to be escorted home, Sir Julian steering her expertly along the pavement while remonstrating at length on the licence given the very young these days. She hardly heard him for her mind was in turmoil. The unexpected meeting with Richard would have been difficult enough but his cold aloofness had at first amazed her and then upset her deeply. Years had passed since she’d broken their engagement and she’d imagined that whatever anger he’d felt towards her would have cooled long ago. But it was clear that it was not so. Those steely grey eyes had expressed—what, indifference, aversion, even enmity? Richard, of all people, the boy who had meant most to her for most of her life.

Sir Julian continued his monologue as they made their way through the busy crowds that thronged Mayfair that morning.

‘I am only glad, Miss Tallis, that you sustained no lasting injury. How I could have reconciled myself to that I do not know. It was I who invited you to view the floral display—if it had not been for me, you would never have been in danger.’

She roused herself to reassure him. ‘Please don’t blame yourself, Sir Julian. The incident was in no way your fault. You could not have foreseen such a thing happening.’

‘That is true, but I still feel a heavy responsibility. And tomorrow I must go away. I cannot delay my visit to Rosings any longer. I have already put it off once and my bailiff remains most anxious to consult me.’

‘Of course, you must not delay. Why ever should you? As you see, I am perfectly unharmed. My nerves may be a little jangled, but they will soon recover.’

‘Miss Tallis, you are a pearl among women. Others would have had hysterics. You are so cool and admirable under adversity.’

Sir Julian’s fussing was becoming an irritant. She might well have succumbed to hysterics, but not from the possibility of being crushed by a runaway horse. She could hardly admit that the shock she’d sustained was in encountering Richard’s hostility, and she was desperate for her well-meaning companion to drop the topic. Thank goodness he was to journey to his estates tomorrow and she would be free of his company for the next few days. But how dreadful that she should feel this way about the man she was considering taking as a husband.

‘I shall be back very shortly—’ he had almost read her mind ‘—and then, Miss Tallis, I hope to renew our conversation which was so violently terminated.’

They had reached the house in Mount Street that Lady Tallis rented every year and Sir Julian bounded up the white stone steps and knocked sharply on the front door with his cane. Christabel wasn’t sure if this was to impress since there was a perfectly good door knocker. However, he was beaming down on her with a gentle kindliness and she tried to look suitably grateful for his care. As soon as she could, she would send him on his way and seek refuge in her bedroom. She needed time to think, time to digest all that had happened that morning.

The bright blue door of Number Six finally swung open after an unusual delay and the two of them made to enter, but were pulled up sharply on the threshold by a scene of rampant confusion. The hall was overflowing with trunks, cases, holdalls of all kinds and a decidedly sulky-looking parrot in a white ironwork cage that Christabel recognised instantly.

‘Sophia? Sophia is here?’

‘Yes, Sophia is here.’

A strident voice emanated from behind the furthest stack of parcels. The young lady who emerged, smiling triumphantly at her sister, was not ill favoured, but against Christabel’s pure beauty she appeared unexceptional.

‘What on earth are you doing in Mount Street? Why have you left Cornwall?’ Christabel exclaimed.

Before her sister could answer, a cheery male voice called out from the adjoining library, ‘Hey, Sophy, you could hang the bird here.’

‘Benedict? He’s here too?’

Christabel was dumbstruck at this sudden eruption into her life of the two siblings she had supposed to be fixed at Lamorna Place for the next few months. Lady Harriet floated into the hall, waving her hands ineffectually over the assorted baggage as though by doing so it would miraculously order itself and march away.

‘Christabel, my darling, I’m so glad you’re back. The servants are being amazingly slow at sorting this mountain and I need your help.’

‘I’m not surprised they’re slow—why on earth is there so much?’

Sophia drew herself up with an indignant puff and was just about to launch into an impassioned response when she spied Sir Julian hovering just behind her sister. Christabel had not introduced him immediately and he took the chance to excuse himself, saying in a rather nervous voice that he could see the family was extremely busy at this time and he would take his leave.

‘May I call on my return, Miss Tallis?’

‘Yes, of course, you may.’ It was her mother who replied so readily.

Sir Julian bowed himself elegantly out of the door and down the steps, but not before he heard Sophia’s accusing voice. ‘Why didn’t you introduce us to your fiancé, Christabel?’

The door shut behind him.

‘He is not my fiancé.’

‘That’s very strange. We understood that you were engaged. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it, Benedict?’

Benedict smiled in a superior fashion. ‘It may be why you’re here, but I’m here to have fun,’ he returned.

‘Mama, may I speak privately with you for a moment?’ Christabel asked in a tight voice as she ushered her mother into the library.

Lady Harriet looked flustered. ‘Shouldn’t we get the hall cleared first, my dear? The house is at sixes and sevens and the staff really do not like it.’

‘In a minute, Mama. This is more important.’

Once in the library, she wasted no time. ‘Why are Sophia and Benedict here?’ she asked, fixing her mother with a minatory look.

‘They are family. It is quite natural that they should come to stay with us,’ her mother responded defensively.

‘But why now, Mama? You know that it was decided they would both remain in Cornwall for the next few months.’

‘That was certainly the initial plan, but things have changed a little.’

‘What things precisely?’

‘Sophia is eighteen and should have the opportunity to partake of at least some of the Season.’ Her mother appeared unwilling to answer her directly.

‘She was eighteen when we left Lamorna, so I ask you again—what has changed?’

‘Sir Julian has changed.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean that he is ready to make you an offer, Christabel. You cannot deny it and if, as I hope, you will see fit to accept him, Sophia must be introduced to the ton at the earliest possible moment so that she, too, has the chance of contracting an eligible alliance.’

‘But it was agreed that she would come out officially next year.’

‘That was before we knew about Sir Julian.’

‘What do we know about Sir Julian? Sophia said that he was my fiancé. Why should she say that?’

‘He is—almost,’ her mother ventured.

‘He has not asked me to marry him.’

‘But he will. And I cannot think why he did not do so this morning. It was clearly what he intended.’

Christabel ignored this and pursued her own enquiry relentlessly.

‘Have you told Sophia that I am engaged?’

‘I may have mentioned in letters to your father that it was possible you were on the point of accepting a proposal.’

‘And Papa has repeated this to Sophia?’

‘He may have mentioned it.’

‘May have? He obviously let it slip and, knowing Sophia, she will have plagued him to death until he agreed that she could come to London. Isn’t that so?’