A Country Miss in Hanover Square

‘Yes. I found it impossible not to oblige him when he invited me to play, but I suspect he may not be completely honest at the tables.’

‘You mean, he cheats?’ Toby’s face showed his disdain as he glanced at the man they were discussing. The Marquis of Northaven was a tall, well-formed gentleman with black hair and very blue eyes. He was generally held to be handsome and the ladies liked him. His progress through the room was causing something of a stir amongst the fair sex, though most looked at him slyly when they thought he was not aware. All the matchmaking mamas were sure to have warned their daughters that he was a rake and not to be trusted, though in some cases that probably only made him more attractive to very young ladies.

‘Well, I dare say he may think I am a flat, but, thanks to you, I am up to most tricks,’ Toby said, his gaze drawn to some newcomers. ‘I say…she’s a beauty, wouldn’t you agree? I believe she is new. I haven’t seen her before.’

Harry followed his nephew’s gaze. A vision in white had just entered the room, accompanied by two attractive older ladies wearing grey and lilac respectively. His eyes narrowed, for the girl was certainly very lovely. Her hair was a dark honey blonde, and she stood out by virtue of the simplicity of her attire. Most of the younger ladies had frills and flounces on their gowns, but she had chosen something more elegant, plain even. Her hair was dressed simply in a loop of the back of her neck, yet it suited her perfectly. He thought perhaps she had taken her cue from the younger of her companions.

Harry frowned as he recognised the lady in grey silk. He had not seen her for some years and she had changed a great deal, but she was still beautiful, extremely elegant. Miss Amelia Royston! If he remembered correctly, his friend, Gerard Ravenshead, had once been interested in the lady, but something had gone wrong. Harry did not know all the details, but Gerard had certainly been cut up about it at the time. It was about the same time that a livid scar appeared at his left temple. Gerard had never spoken of the scar or the reason for the loss of his hopes.

‘Yes, she is rather lovely,’ he said, bringing his gaze back to the vision in white. ‘I have no idea who she is, but I know one of her companions.’

‘You couldn’t introduce me, could you?’ Toby asked and arched his right eyebrow.

‘Fancy your chances, do you?’ Harry asked and chuckled as he saw the younger man colour. ‘I do not think your mama would be happy to see you ensnared too soon, Toby.’

‘Oh, lord, no,’ Toby said and made a grimace of horror. ‘I shall not marry until I am at least as old as you and ready to set up a nursery. Far too boring to be married before you’ve been on the town a few years.’

‘You young cub!’ Harry said and made a face at him. ‘What makes you think I am ready to set up my nursery?’

‘Mama said it was time you did,’ Toby replied innocently but with a wicked air. ‘She says if you leave it much longer, it may be too late.’

‘Good grief. I am three and thirty,’ Harry said and grimaced. ‘I do not think the case desperate yet. Lady Sinclair would have had me married ten years ago if she could, but I had no mind for it. I believe she is more desperate to see me wed than Mama!’

He smiled oddly, for he knew his sister Anne had his best interests at heart. They had always been close and she understood him, perhaps even better than he did himself. Besides, of late he had begun to feel it was time he settled down. Indeed, these days he was as happy with his dogs and horses at home in the country as cutting a dash in town. However, he had not met a lady he wished to marry. Most of the young ladies brought to London by their eager mothers were too naïve and often too timid for his taste. He knew that he would be bored by their company within months and that would be unfair to his wife. If he were to marry, it would be to a lady of spirit, someone who could retain his interest. He was not sure that romantic love existed, but it was certainly possible to admire and care for another. His mother had undoubtedly loved his father, and would never consider marrying again, though she might if she had wished. Harry felt that if he were to marry he would like to be loved in that way, though he knew that most of his friends had married for reasons other than love. Had he been satisfied with a marriage of convenience he might had wed a long time ago, but he was looking for something more.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed that a steady queue of gentlemen were making their way to the side of the beautiful young lady in white. He watched her for a while. Something about her seemed familiar, but he could not think what. He was certain he had never met her before—and yet there was something. She had pretty manners and a nice smile, he observed, before turning away to join some friends in the card room. It was very unlikely that the newcomer would be any different to the other young ladies in the room.

Harry rather thought that when he married, he would probably choose an older lady, perhaps a widow. An intelligent lady, who would fill his house with good company and give him an heir. It was all very well to hope for something more, but in the end he might be forced to marry for the sake of the family.

‘No, no, please, gentlemen, you must not fight over me!’ Susannah begged, her eyes bright with laughter as the two young bucks argued fiercely over the last dance on her card. ‘If you cannot agree which of you should have the dance, I shall promise it to neither of you.’

‘But it should be mine,’ Tom Roberts asserted. ‘I am sure I asked first.’

‘I am the elder by birth and therefore I should take precedence over this rascal,’ his twin Edgar replied, glaring at his brother. ‘You must dance with me, Miss Hampton.’

‘I believe this dance is promised to me, gentlemen.’ The newcomer held out his hand with a touch of command that prompted Susannah to obey, even though she had not yet been introduced. However, she knew who he was, for she had remarked his progress through the room and asked Amelia.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, smiling up at the Marquis of Northaven as he led her out to join the throng of dancers. ‘It was good of you to rescue me.’

‘The Roberts twins are known for squabbling with each other,’ Northaven said. ‘Harmless enough, I dare say, but I thought you needed a little help. This is your first Season in town, I believe?’

‘My first dance,’ Susannah confided, her smile sparkling at him, because the evening had been far more exciting than she could ever have imagined. She had not sat out once, and the twins were not the first gentlemen to argue over her, in a friendly, teasing manner, of course. It was just good fun and she had thoroughly enjoyed being fussed over. The reality had far outweighed her dreams thus far. ‘I have had such a lovely time.’

‘Everyone speaks of you as the latest rage,’ Northaven said, amused by her honesty. She was very young and he was usually bored by innocence, but she had spirit and an artlessness that was amusing. ‘It all seems fresh and new for the moment, but you will be bored within a month.’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t be,’ Susannah retorted. ‘We have been invited everywhere, to so many different affairs. I couldn’t possibly be bored in London.’

‘Do you not know that it is fashionable to be bored?’ Northaven lifted an eyebrow, his expression mocking.

‘Oh…’ Susannah laughed because she believed he was teasing her. ‘I fear that I must be unfashionable then, sir. I have not yet acquired town bronze and you must forgive my country manners—but I refuse to be bored when people have gone to so much trouble on my behalf. It would be rude and ungrateful.’

‘Then you will set a new fashion,’ he told her. ‘Since everyone approves of you, you can do no wrong.’

Susannah looked at him uncertainly as their dance ended. She was not quite sure what to think of him, because he was very different from most of the young gentlemen she had danced with that evening. He returned her to her mother and Amelia, bowed and took his leave. She was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. There was something slightly dangerous about the marquis, and she was not sure she had made an impression on him, though she found him intriguing. He was very handsome, like one of the heroes from her dreams.

‘Susannah…’ She became aware of her mother speaking. ‘This gentleman wishes to make your acquaintance. Lord Pendleton—my daughter, Susannah. Your father was a friend of Lord Pendleton’s father, my dear.’ Mrs Hampton smiled and moved away a few steps to talk to a lady who had caught her attention.

Susannah turned to look at the gentleman her mother had just introduced. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Northaven, but in his way equally attractive. His hair was not as dark as the marquis’s, being a chestnut brown, and with a slight curl to it, his eyes a soft, melting brown. A little shock ran through her as she recognised him. He was the rude gentleman who had almost knocked her down in the lane. He was dressed very differently this evening, but she could not mistake those eyes, even though they were not flashing with temper. She felt hot inside as she wondered whether he would recognise her.

‘Sir.’ She inclined her head, but kept her eyes lowered. Her heart was racing for she hardly knew how to face him. She was almost sure that he had not recognised her and she hoped he would not. Their encounter had been so brief that he would surely have forgotten her. Her hand curled into itself, her heart beating faster. ‘I am pleased to meet you.’

‘It is your first visit to town, Miss Hampton?’

‘Yes—how did you know?’ Her heart raced. Had he recognised her as the girl he had met briefly in a country lane?

Harry hesitated, frowned, then said, ‘I do not wish to seem interfering, Miss Hampton, but if I were you, I should not dance with Northaven too often.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You know it is strange, but I have the oddest feeling that I have seen you somewhere quite recently.’

‘I doubt it, sir.’ Susannah’s heart caught with fright. What would he think if he realised where he had seen her? One word from a gentleman of his stature and she might be ruined! ‘Why do you warn me against Lord Northaven? He seems a perfect gentleman to me, sir.’

‘I do not fault his manners or his lineage,’ Harry told her. ‘I think perhaps he is not a suitable partner for an innocent and very pretty young lady.’

Susannah had received so many compliments that evening that his words made little impression. She had been called beautiful, stunning, a nymph, an angel and many similar endearments. To be called pretty was not remarkable and, besides, she did not like his tone. Anyone would think he was her brother or her uncle! He was arrogant and opinionated—a bore.

‘I thank you for your concern, sir,’ she replied primly. ‘However, I believe I am quite safe here under the eyes of Mama and Miss Royston.’

‘Yes, I expect you are, as long as you take care to remain where they can see you,’ Harry said and hesitated. ‘Forgive me if I seemed to lecture you. It is not my place to do so—but I would never allow a niece of mine to associate with that gentleman.’

‘I am not your niece, sir.’

‘No, you are not. Forgive me. I have earned your displeasure. I spoke with good intent, but I should not have interfered,’ Harry said, then inclined his head to her and walked off.

Susannah stared after him. His back was very straight and she understood that she had offended him. She had thought at first that he was one of the most attractive gentlemen she had met that evening—in her whole life!—but he was a stuffy bore. She did not think he could be much above thirty years, but he behaved as if he were old enough to be her father! He was certainly not the kind of man she was seeking as a husband. Her eyes searched the room for the man that had made the biggest impression on her that evening and found him.

Northaven turned his head and glanced at her. For a moment his blue eyes met hers and her heart jerked, but then he looked at his companion once more and smiled at something he was saying. Almost at once they left the room together. Susannah’s gaze followed him, her feelings showing a little too well on her face.

‘I could not help overhearing what Harry Pendleton said to you a moment ago,’ Amelia said, and Susannah glanced round at her. ‘It was not his place to say it, of course, but he is quite right, Susannah. Northaven is a rake and perhaps worse. He is received everywhere, but there has been some talk of late. I should not dream of trying to dictate to you, my dear, for there is nothing so annoying as being told not to do something—but if I were you, I should be careful of Northaven, at least until you know more of him. But please do not think that I mean to interfere, for I most certainly do not. That is something I abhor.’

Susannah caught a look in her eyes that told her she was thinking of the way her own life had been when she was forced to live in her brother’s house. Once again she felt indignant that anyone should have made Amelia suffer so. She had been introduced to Amelia’s brother earlier that evening, but his stiff manner had not helped to change her opinion, nor the way he had looked at her, as if she were something the cat had brought in! He obviously thought that she was an adventuress, bent on taking what she could from his sister.

‘Oh…then, of course, I shall be very careful,’ Susannah replied. She did not wish to offend her kind hostess, though she had liked the marquis despite the warning. However, it was Lord Pendleton’s advice that rankled. It was just the same as that day he had almost knocked her down. Instead of apologising he had lost his temper—and now he was seeking to lecture her. Did he imagine that she was stupid? He had spoken to her as if she were still in the schoolroom! She had no intention of becoming compromised by any of the gentlemen, several of whom had enquired if she would like to take the air. She was enjoying her success, but she had as yet no thoughts of marrying anyone and must therefore be careful not to do anything that might seem too particular.

Susannah still felt in her heart that the most exciting man she had met that evening was the Marquis of Northaven, yet it was Lord Pendleton who lingered in her mind long after she had said goodnight to Mama and Amelia and retired to bed. When she dreamed, annoyingly it was of Lord Pendleton, who had somehow acquired a schoolmaster’s hat and waved his cane at her, telling her to behave or he would punish her.

How very ridiculous! In the morning her dreams vanished with the sight of the sunshine pouring in at her window and she rose, feeling refreshed and eager for the day to begin. She laughingly dismissed her annoyance of the previous evening. Life was too amusing to be disturbed by such a small thing for long. Lord Pendleton was rich and respected, but he did not fit her idea of a knight on a white horse. Besides, they had so many engagements, so many affairs to attend that she had no time to reflect on that particular gentleman.

She was going shopping again that morning and she wanted to buy a bonnet she had seen in the milliner’s window a day or so earlier. Bonnets, pretty gowns and enjoying herself were of far more importance than one gentleman’s opinion of her. She did not know why she had let it weigh with her at all!

She would put the disagreeable Lord Pendleton out of her mind and not think of him again.