Isabelle Goddard - Unmasking Miss Lacey

‘It’s not empty,’ the earl answered cheerfully. ‘My sister, Lady Bessborough, fills the house with her four children. As a bachelor, I am happy with something a little less grand.’

Francis was temporarily silenced by the need to taste several of the new dishes that had found their way to the table. When he spoke again, it was to say smugly, ‘Of course, you will not have much of a garden in Grosvenor Square.’

The earl seemed disinclined to quarrel with this and her uncle went on, ‘We have some splendid grounds at the Towers, you know—parkland which stretches for miles, a fine terraced garden and any number of succession houses.’ He wiped his lips in satisfaction. ‘Why do you not take a walk? The weather remains fair and I know that Lucinda will be pleased to accompany you and explain all that we are doing here.’

The earl had long since finished eating and seemed glad to rise from the table. ‘That sounds a most delightful way to spend an afternoon.’ His smile was only slightly wry as he bowed graciously in Lucinda’s direction. ‘If you are ready, Miss Lacey, shall we go?’ Beneath her uncle’s implacable gaze, she had little choice but to surrender her seat and take the proffered arm.

They strode in silence towards the honey-coloured terrace at the rear of the mansion. Francis Devereux did not intend to waste an opportunity to throw them together, Jack thought, no matter how distasteful his niece might find it. The gardens no doubt were another step in his campaign. He felt sorry for the girl, sorry for himself. They had been put in an impossible situation.

‘Your uncle was right—you have a magnificent estate. I can see why he was so insistent that we take this walk.’

She did not rise to his irony, but said instead, ‘My uncle is very proud of Verney Towers. You may have noticed.’ There was only the slightest tinge of acid in her voice.

‘He has every right to be proud,’ he said dishonestly. ‘It is a beautiful old house and surrounded by splendid countryside.’

She wrinkled her nose and he found it oddly charming. ‘I might agree with you on the countryside, but the house could never be called beautiful. You flatter us, I think.’

‘I never flatter, Miss Lacey.’

‘I cannot imagine that is so, or else how could you have made so many conquests?’

He did not feel sorry for her at all, he decided. She was abominable.

‘Whatever you may have heard will be an exaggeration. And I thought we had agreed that gossip should be ignored.’

She let go of his arm and smoothed out her skirts of patterned muslin. She was looking as fetching as she had this morning, he noticed, a rich blue ribbon threaded through blonde curls and a blue velvet tippet around her shoulders. Yesterday’s hideous rags had seemingly been consigned to the bonfire.

‘You agreed. In any case I am not interested in gossip, but I do value the truth. I am wondering why it is now that you have decided to visit us, Lord Frensham, for your sisters must have told you that silly story about our families quite some while ago.’

‘I believe I mentioned that I was driving to Hampshire.’

‘On the way to a country-house party, yes, but I imagine you must attend many such gatherings not a million miles from Sussex. So why come to us now?’

He smothered a sigh; she was far too perceptive. ‘Strictly in the interests of truth, I admit that this journey was convenient. Life in London was proving a trifle difficult.’

‘Life—or was it a woman?’

The conversation was becoming more indecorous by the minute, he thought, but he still found himself answering, ‘Yes. A lady.’

‘A woman,’ she said firmly. ‘What happened?’

‘Her husband happened.’ If he were to speak honestly, she might as well know the worst. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in for once talking candidly to a female, but he waited in some trepidation for her next question.

‘Do you often have to deal with irate husbands?’

‘No, I do not! I may have allowed myself to be pulled in a little too far this time and … Why am I telling you this?’

‘You are telling me because we have decided on the truth.’ She pointed to the short scar on his left cheek. ‘Did you get that from a similar “happening”?’

‘I was foolish enough to walk down an unlit Venetian alley some years ago—I owe it to footpads, not a furious spouse!’

‘Then you escaped lightly. It must have been a most dangerous situation.’

‘It was—particularly for them. Though I believe the canal was not overly deep and preferable, I imagine, to my sword.’

‘And is it a duel that you have just fought—I mean, with the angry husband?’

‘You are far too inquisitive, not to mention brazen.’

‘It is only right that I should know the kind of suitor my uncle has been so eager to propose! He had been worrying over your moral suitability until your sisters put his mind at rest. Now if he had been privy to this conversation …’

‘I cannot pretend to be proud of the life I’ve led. But neither do I feel undue guilt. There are ladies,’ he said carefully, ‘certain ladies, who need little flattery or persuasion to extend their hand in friendship.’

‘I am not so innocent that I do not know something of the world. I believe they are what Rupert calls lady-birds.’

He supposed he should look shocked, but he wanted to laugh. ‘Rupert may call them so, but you should not.’

‘What should I call them, then?’

‘You should not know about them.’

‘That is ridiculous.’

He had to agree, but thought it wise to steer the conversation into safer channels. They had reached the small archway at one end of the terrace and strolled through into the rose garden. The central fountain had been shut down for the winter and there were gaps here and there where plants had died or bushes lost their leaves. The weather, though, was still mild for late October and a sprinkling of blooms added colour to the grey flint walls.

‘This must be a wonderful retreat in high summer—the sound of rushing water and the sweetness of so many flowers.’

She was looking surprised. Evidently gossip had not credited him with an appreciation of nature. She bent down to sniff at a last apricot bloom. ‘Do you grow roses on your estate? This is a Buff Beauty—it still smells divine.’

‘I have tried to create something similar at Beaufort Hall, but in comparison my rose garden lacks maturity even though the Somerset climate is temperate. And the manor house in Yorkshire will never match the exacting standards of the Towers, I fear. It is situated on a hill and exposed to every extreme element.’

‘Do you enjoy having so many properties?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ he confessed.

‘I suppose that comes of being rich.’ It was clear that she set little store by this and the conversation limped to a close. He hoped they could talk more, for she was delightfully unusual. Though she had a face and a figure that seduced, she had a mind to match.

His hope was realised when they headed towards the cluster of hothouses which lay on the far side of the rose garden and she threw him a challenge. ‘I must pick flowers for the church today. Are you likely to be of any help?’

‘I doubt that flower picking is one of my better skills.’

‘What are, then?’

‘I can box.’

She could not prevent a giggle. ‘I cannot see flower arranging being the greatest use in the ring. But where do you box?’

‘At Jackson’s saloon in Bond Street.’

‘Rupert followed the gentleman’s career with great interest, although my uncle never allowed him to go to a prize fight. I know for a fact, though, that he sneaked away several times when the rumour of a likely meeting reached him.’