Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

How was Amanda going to prevent her impetuous cousin from hanging on Mr Anders’s sleeve, chattering in his ear and trying to accompany him on every walk, stroll or ride he took on Ashton Grove land and elsewhere?

‘Have I dripped egg on my coat, Miss Neville?’

Startled out of her reverie, Amanda realised Mr Anders’s deep-green eyes were now focused on her, his amused expression announcing he’d caught her staring at him. Quickly she averted her gaze, while, to her added discomfort, she felt a blush mounting her cheeks.

‘I don’t think so,’ Althea replied before she could respond. ‘If you had, she would have told you so directly. Amanda is a stickler for propriety and proper behaviour.’

‘Proper’ meaning dull, Althea’s tone said. Amanda suppressed a sigh and hoped her expression didn’t betray her irritation. Althea’s obvious attempt to disparage her in front of the object of her fascination might be humorous if it were not so annoying—and disquieting proof of just how mesmerised the girl already was.

‘For a young lady about to make her début, being a stickler for propriety is an unfortunate necessity, or so I’ve been told,’ came Mr Anders’s surprising reply. ‘It’s quite unfair that gentleman are allowed great freedom of behaviour, while ladies, especially unmarried ones, are so restricted.’

Amanda risked a quick, covert glance at his face, which seemed serious rather than mocking. It was only polite of him to have so deftly deflected Althea’s criticism, but could it be possible he really understood the truth of his remark?

Or was he just vastly experienced at leading young ladies astray? As of yet, she knew absolutely nothing about his character. Compellingly attractive as he was injured, she imagined his charm would be quite devastating when he was fully recovered. A rogue-in-sheep’s clothing, who cloaked illicit designs in properly conventional speeches, would be as dangerous to Althea’s heart and reputation as those jungle cats loosed among Ashton Grove cattle.

The idea of having to tangle wits with the gentleman to protect her cousin sent a sharp, and deeply disturbing, tingle of anticipation rippling through Amanda.

She struggled to suppress it, reminding herself that, alluring as he might be, even if Anders were the gentleman he seemed, his present circumstances rendered him entirely ineligible as a suitable companion for either her or Althea.

Meanwhile, her cousin eagerly latched on to his comment. ‘Quite right!’ she cried. ‘When I was younger, I used to ride astride, in trousers, which is so much more practical and comfortable than going side-saddle in a tangle of skirts. But after … everything that happened last summer, Uncle James has forbidden me to follow the hunt. Indeed, he insists I maintain the most dull, dawdling pace when I do ride, though now more than ever I need a hard gallop. And you cannot even imagine the dreariness of the lady’s academy they forced me to attend. Lecture after lecture about how a young lady must do this and mustn’t do that, all those silly girls chattering of beaux and gowns and needlework until I thought I must scream. How glad I was to leave.

‘And I’m not going back,’ she announced with a mutinous glare at Amanda, whose shock at that pronouncement doubtless showed clearly on her face. ‘I shall stay here at Ashton Grove and take care of Uncle James while Amanda goes to London.’

Though this was both a most unwelcome announcement and the first she’d heard of the decision, now in front of Mr Anders was hardly the place to debate the matter.

Unable to determine upon a reply that would not further inflame her cousin, Amanda was relieved when their guest smoothly continued, ‘What would you study and do, Miss Holton, if you were permitted to choose?’

As good manners, it was an impeccable move. Even more surprising, Mr Anders appeared to genuinely be interested in the opinions of this shabbily behaved schoolgirl.

‘I’d ride astride again. Learn to fence and shoot and hunt. Fish in my old clothes like I used to with Amanda, before she put off such “childish” things. Study politics and philosophy and … and Greek instead of china painting and deportment. Play billiards—and drink port and smoke cigars!’ Althea finished defiantly.

If she’d tried to shock him, she’d failed. Their guest merely shook his head and laughed. ‘I fear your relations would give you trouble, indeed, were you to embark on such an agenda. Though I should hardly wish for such a lovely girl to be miraculously transformed into a young man, it is a shame, for if you were on your way to university, you might indulge all those desires.’

‘How I wish I might attend university,’ Althea said wistfully—and Amanda suppressed a sigh of her own at virtually the only remark her cousin had made with which she agreed. How much more useful might a wife be to a husband with great responsibilities in government were she tutored as he had been in the intricacies of diplomacy and politics.

‘How does one go about making a career of the sea?’ Althea asked. ‘When we walk along the beach, watching the ships, I always wonder what it would be like to be out there, sailing on one of the vessels skimming by the coast.’

‘I am not making a career of the Navy, Miss Holton, although my short time in the service gave me a great admiration for those who do. Individuals who desire to rise to command must begin at a much earlier age. My captain, himself son of a commodore, went aboard his first ship as a “young gentleman” at the age of eleven.’

‘Does it take so long, then?’ Amanda asked, her interest piqued in spite of herself.

‘It does—and the training is rigorous. A “young gentleman” must serve three years before he can become a midshipman, then at least another six as midshipman before he can take the exam for lieutenant. There are never enough commands to go around, and with the war finally over, even fewer will be available, although much important work remains for the Navy. The French no longer hamper British commerce, but despite the recent agreement signed with the Bey of Algiers to prevent dealing in, ah … the abduction of European citizens, piracy remains a serious threat.’

His momentary pause, and the slight tinge of colour in his face when he pronounced the last phrase, sparked Amanda to wonder if he were referring to the agreement to end the white slavery trade about which she’d read in the London papers last year. If so, no wonder he’d been embarrassed, almost mentioning such a shocking subject to young ladies of sensibility. The titillating notion of slave girls and seraglios sent a thrill of the forbidden through her.

Fortunately, the mention of pirates had apparently distracted Althea from noticing his hesitation. ‘Was your ship engaged against the pirates?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Is that how you were injured?’

Suddenly, Anders’s genial smile faded and his eyes took on a hard look. ‘Yes, but it’s probably best I not relate too much of that bloody encounter.’

‘Oh, but I should love to hear about it!’ Althea cried. ‘Every cannon volley and thrust. It must have been so thrilling.’

While Anders’s expression grew even more forbidding, her cousin opened her lips, looking as if she were about to entreat him again. ‘Althea!’ Amanda warned in a sharp undertone.

Finally sensing Mr Anders’s reluctance, her cousin flushed. ‘Excuse me,’ she mumbled. ‘Of course, I don’t wish to tease you to talk about something you prefer not to discuss.’

‘Should you like more coffee, Mr Anders?’ Amanda intervened to cover the awkward moment.

Mr Anders’s stern expression softened. ‘No, I’ve had sufficient, Miss Neville. Perhaps a knife to pick my teeth?’

The room went suddenly silent. Shock and dismay must have blanched her face, but before she could form some reply, Anders chuckled.

‘Belay that last,’ he said with a grin. ‘I believe I shall try a walk now. From what I observed from the French doors overlooking the terrace, a stroll through the gardens should be quite pleasant.’

Why, the … the wretch! Amanda fumed, feeling her face flame again. Not only had Anders obviously sensed her initial disdain for the man who’d stumbled across her threshold looking like the lowest of common sailors, he now had the audacity to tease her about it! Though as shabbily as she’d treated him as his hostess, she probably ought to tender him an apology … at some moment when her cousin wasn’t looking on.

‘Shall I show you?’ Althea offered quickly. ‘My Aunt Lydia’s knot gardens are most ingenious—like a maze in miniature made of clipped herbs. Just give me long enough to fetch my pelisse.’

‘That would be most pleasant, Miss Holton,’ Anders said.

Damn and blast, Amanda thought, Althea’s offer pulling her from her agitation to a more serious concern. It appeared her cousin did intend to dog the steps of their guest.

Except for that one remark about teeth-picking, Mr Anders had conducted himself like a gentleman. Polished behaviour, however, would be easy to affect by one who had grown up among the ton, as his lineage, if not his most recent associations, suggested. If he were a rogue, she was in for a difficult time, for judging by the adoring gaze Althea now had fixed upon the man, she would be deaf to any caution Amanda might utter about spending time alone in his company.

An even more dire possibility occurred to her. Despite her avowed interest in ‘manly’ pursuits, Althea was a girl hovering on the brink between child and young woman. If her adulation should turn in a flirtatious direction, the girl might throw herself at Anders’s head. Possessed of a sizeable dowry herself, Althea would be a plump prize for a man who apparently possessed neither wealth nor property of his own.

One further glance at Althea’s expression told Amanda that any attempt to prevent her from escorting Mr Anders about was doomed to failure. The girl would simply disobey a direct order to refrain from his company; if Amanda tried to assign her some task that would prevent their meeting, Althea would likely find a way around it.

Desperately Amanda wished that Papa were present, removing from her shoulders the burden of protecting her cousin. But though she didn’t wish to further offend their guest, she knew it simply was not safe for Althea to go waltzing about the estate with Mr Anders unchaperoned. And since her wily cousin was quite capable of fobbing off any maid or groom she tried to saddle with the task, the only person likely to successfully prevent that—was herself.

Reluctantly she forced the words through stiff lips. ‘I believe I’d like to take the air as well. May I join you in your walk, Mr Anders?’

Though he might immediately guess her purpose, in his guise as a gentleman, Mr Anders could hardly refuse to accept her company if he’d already agreed to Althea’s. Though the girl sent her a furious look for inserting herself where she was not wanted, Mr Anders replied with the only answer courtesy permitted.

‘Of course, Miss Neville. If having the escort of one lovely lady is a delight, having two would be doubly so. Shall I meet you both at the entry in, say, ten minutes?’

After her polite and Althea’s enthusiastic murmur of assent, the three rose from the table.

Amanda lingered in the breakfast room as the other two departed, fuming. With quarterly supplies to order, the household account books to review with Mrs Pepys, several ill tenants to visit and half-a-dozen other urgent tasks awaiting, the last thing she needed was to have to play unwilling chaperon to her equally unwilling cousin.

Amanda resisted a strong urge to hurl her unoffending coffee cup into the fireplace, merely to hear the satisfying crash.

There was no hope for it, though. Until she could transfer the responsibility for Althea’s protection to Papa or work out a better way to separate the girl from the object of her fascination, Amanda would have to intervene.

The regrettable fact that a little stir of anticipation coursed through her at the idea of spending more time in Mr Anders’s company only made her angrier.

Chapter Four

Some ten minutes later, Greville met the ladies in the downstairs hallway before proceeding through the French doors on to the terrace. The pale February sun gave an illusion of warmth and cast a mellow light over the lichen-coated stone ornaments, balustrades, steps and the soft salmon brick of the Georgian wings. Ghostly trees rose out of the mist that still lingered over the lawns, while in the distance a dark wood climbed the hazy outlines of a slope.