The Rake to Ruin Her

Lagging behind for a moment, Max studied the man across the field, who was now striding back toward the stables. He’d better find out who that was. And continue to keep an eye on Miss Denby.

Chapter Five

After a most satisfactory session at the stream, Max and Alastair returned the trout to the kitchen for Cook to turn into breakfast. While Alastair went on to change out of his fishing garb, Max hesitated by the door to his aunt’s room.

All during their mostly silent camaraderie at the river, rather than concentrate on fish, Max had thought about his aunt’s unusual guest. He’d had, he was forced to admit, to exercise some considerable discipline to keep his thoughts from turning from the serious matter of her situation and the man watching her to memories of her inviting gurgle of a laugh, that enticing bosom and the wonderfully suggestive up-and-down motion of her derrière on the saddle.

Making enquiries of Aunt Grace might seem odd, but while Alastair was otherwise occupied, he probably ought to risk it. If he discovered that the gentleman guests included none but paragons of honour and virtue, he could stop worrying about Miss Denby and dismiss her situation from his mind.

Decision made, he knocked and was bid to enter. ‘Max! This is a pleasant surprise!’ Mrs Ransleigh cried, her expression of mild curiosity warming to one of genuine pleasure. ‘Will you take chocolate with me, or some coffee? I confess, I do feel terrible, I’ve been so poor a hostess to you.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, waving away her offer. ‘I’ll not stay long enough for coffee; we’re just back from the river, and I’m sure you’d as lief I not leave fish slime on your sofa. You know Alastair and I are quite able to keep ourselves well entertained.’

She flushed. ‘I do appreciate your … discretion. Even as I absolutely deplore the necessity for it! Is there truly no hope of your finding another diplomatic position?’

‘I have some ideas, but there’s no point initiating anything yet while Father is still so angry. You know he has the influence to block whatever I attempt, should he wish to.’

‘That’s so James!’ she cried. ‘Brilliant orator and skilled politician your father may be, but he can be so bull-headed and unreasonable sometimes, I’d like to shake him!’

Though he appreciated his aunt’s sympathy, he’d just as soon not dwell on the painful topic of his ruined prospects. ‘I didn’t stop by to talk about me,’ he parried. ‘How goes your party? Has Jane succeeded in leg-shackling any of the guests? Has Lissa found her ideal mate?’

‘Felicity is enjoying herself immensely, which is all I wished for her, since I have no desire to give her up to a husband just yet! Among the other guests, there are some promising developments, though it’s too early to tell yet whether they will result in engagements.’

Trying for a nonchalant tone, Max said, ‘I happened to encounter one of your young ladies. No, nothing scandalous about it,’ he assured her hastily before, her eyes widening in alarm, she could speak. ‘I met her briefly and by chance one afternoon in the conservatory, where she darted in, she told me, to escape some suitor. A most unusual young woman.’

Aunt Grace laughed. ‘Oh, dear! That must have been Miss Denby! Poor Diana—her stepmother, Lady Denby, an old friend of mine—is quite in despair over the girl. Perhaps you didn’t notice in your quick meeting, but the lady is rather … old.’

Were he pressed to describe what he’d noticed about Miss Denby during that first meeting, Max thought, ‘old’ would not be among the adjectives that came to mind. ‘I must confess, I didn’t notice,’ he replied in perfect truth.

‘She should have had her first Season years ago,’ his aunt continued. ‘But she was her widowed father’s only child. Now that I face having my last chick leave home, I can perfectly understand why he didn’t wish to lose her. She’s a great heiress, though, so Diana hasn’t given up hope yet of her making an acceptable match, even though at five-and-twenty she’s practically on the shelf.’

‘A doddering old age, to be sure.’

‘For a female of good birth and fortune to remain unwed at such an age is unusual,’ his aunt said reprovingly. ‘With her being practically an ape-leader, you’d think she’d be eager to wed, but apparently it’s quite the opposite! Though the poor dear seems intelligent enough, she’s terribly shy in company and possesses not a particle of conversation unrelated to hunting and horses. To make matters worse, though I hesitate to say something so uncharitable about a guest, her taste in clothing is atrocious. I expect, arbiter of fashion that you are, you did notice the dreadful gown.’

‘I did,’ he said drily. Though my attention focused more on the neckline than the trimming. ‘So, there is no one here who wishes to coax her into matrimony?

‘I had high hopes of Lord Stantson. A very knowledgeable horseman, he’s a mature man with a calm demeanour I thought might appeal to her.’ At Max’s raised eyebrow, she said, ‘Many young ladies prefer to entrust their future to the steady hand of an older gentleman, rather than risk all with such dashing young rakes as some I might mention! Mr Henshaw has also been pursuing her, though I have to admit,’ his aunt concluded, ‘she has given neither man any encouragement.’

Henshaw! That was the man who’d been watching her in the paddock this morning, Max realised.

Aunt Grace sighed. ‘Lady Denby is quite determined to get her settled before her own daughter Eugenia makes her début next spring. The poor girl’s chances for making a good match will diminish drastically if she must share her Season with her stepsister, for Eugenia Whitman is nearly as wealthy as Miss Denby and far outshines her in youth, wit and beauty.’

Miss Denby was hardly an antidote, Max thought, indignant on her behalf before he recalled the great pains she’d been taking to ensure she created just the sort of negative impression his aunt was describing.

‘If she seems so unwilling and unsuitable, I wonder that her stepmother keeps pushing her to wed. Why not let her remain at Denby Lodge, with her horses?’

‘Well, she must marry some time,’ Mrs Ransleigh said. ‘What else is she to do? And she’s very, very rich.’

‘Which explains the gentlemen’s pursuit of someone who gives them no encouragement.’ Max had been feeling more hopeful, but some niggle of memory made him frown.

Having spent so much time away with the army, he hadn’t visited London very often the last few years, but he vaguely recalled from his clubs the tattle that Henshaw was always pursuing some heiress or other. ‘Is Henshaw a fortune hunter?’

Aunt Grace coloured. ‘I should never describe him in such uncomplimentary terms. Mr Henshaw comes from a very good family and is perfectly respectable. If he wishes to marry a wealthy girl, such a desire is hardly unusual.’

Definitely a fortune hunter, Max concluded. ‘Anyone else angling for the reluctant Miss Denby?’

His aunt fixed him with an assessing look. ‘Did the young lady catch your interest?’

‘Does she look like a lady who would attract me?’ Max asked, feeling somehow guilty for disparaging a woman he admired even as he imbued his voice with the right note of disdain.

Fortunately, his previous flirts had always been acknowledged beauties, so the hopeful light in his aunt’s eyes died. ‘No,’ she admitted.

‘I merely found her amusingly unconventional.’

Aunt Grace laughed ruefully. ‘She is certainly that! Poor Lady Denby! One can only sympathise with her difficulties in trying to get the girl married.’

Having discovered what he’d come for, he’d best take his leave, before Aunt Grace tried to spin some matrimonial web around him. ‘I’ll leave you to your dresser and return to my breakfast, which Cook is now preparing.’

‘Go enjoy your fish, then. I’m so glad you stopped by. I do hope you’ll stay long enough that we can have a good visit, after all the guests leave. Felicity and Jane are eager to have more from you than a few hurried words.’

‘I would like that.’

‘Enjoy your day, then, my dear.’

Max kissed her hand. ‘Enjoy your guests.’

After bowing himself out, Max walked towards the study he and Alastair had turned into their private parlour, running over in his mind what he’d learned from Aunt Grace about Miss Denby.

So none but Stantson and Henshaw had set their sights on the heiress. If Aunt Grace believed both to be gentlemen, he had nothing to worry about. He might enquire and see what Alastair knew about the men, just to be sure, but unless his cousin disclosed something to their discredit, he had no reason to involve himself any further in the matter of her future.

Though, as he’d assured his aunt, the lady was nothing at all like the women who usually attracted him, he had to admit to a feeling of regret at the idea that he’d seen the last of Miss Denby, the only unusual member of what was otherwise a stultifyingly conventional gathering of females.

Several days later, while Alastair occupied himself in the estate office, Max repaired to his bench in the conservatory to while away the afternoon with some reading.

No sun gilded the tropical plants today, but the morning’s rain had left a soft mist dewing the grass, greying the greens of the trees, shrubs and vines. Within the warm, heated expanse of the glasshouse, the soft swish of swaying palms and ferns and the sweet exotic scent of citrus and jasmine were infinitely soothing.

Alastair had informed him the previous evening that he’d heard the colonel of Max’s former regiment had just returned from Paris. He’d recommended that Max speak with him about a position, sound advice Max meant to follow. The calm and beauty surrounding him here further lifted his spirits, filling him with the sense that much was still possible, if he were patient and persistent enough.

He was absorbed in his book when, some time later, a lavender scent tickled his nose. At the same moment, a soft ‘Oh!’ of surprise brought his head up, just in time to see Miss Denby halt abruptly a few yards away down the pathway.

A warm wave of anticipation suffused him, even as she hastily backed away. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Ransleigh! I didn’t mean to disturb you!’

‘Then you didn’t come here to seek me out?’ he asked, his tone teasing.

‘Oh, no! I wouldn’t have intruded on your privacy, sir. Your cousin Miss Felicity, who has become great friends with my stepsister, Eugenia, told her you and Mr Alastair would be away all day.’

‘You truly are not pursuing me, then?’ He clapped a hand to his chest theatrically. ‘What a blow to my self-esteem.’