Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

Harriet smilingly wagged her finger at him and left the room, with every intention of keeping as far away from the viscount as good manners allowed, for she was perplexed to find that his very presence suddenly seemed capable of exercising the strangest effect upon her composure. At the morning service, for instance, he had elected to stand next to her in the family pew and his fingers had (quite accidentally, she was sure) brushed against hers as she had leaned forward to pick up her prayer book. This, for some reason that she could not fathom, had prevented her from finding her place and he had taken her book from her and had handed her his own, open at the correct page. She was not even sure that she had given her responses correctly, so aware had she been of Sandford’s own resonant, articulate returns. Worst of all, she was sure that she had detected an undercurrent of suppressed laughter in his voice and a swift sideways glance at him had revealed his amused scrutiny of her discomposure. His eyes had held that same disconcerting gleam, which she had done her best to ignore on the previous evening. When he had helped her into and out of the carriage his hand had seemed to linger on her arm a fraction too long and she had, once more, been conscious of the unrelenting intensity of his gaze as he sat opposite Lady Caroline and herself during the ride home from church.

Mentally shaking herself, Harriet hesitated outside the earl’s door, unable to decide whether to return to the safety of her own room and stay out of harm’s way or to venture downstairs. The events of the last few days were clearly affecting her brain, she concluded, and turned resolutely to the head of the stairway, only to perceive the object of her reverie emerging from his own chambers nearby.

‘Ah, Miss Cordell!’

Sandford registered Harriet’s violent start at his appearance but made no comment. He had, in fact, been listening somewhat impatiently for the click of his father’s door-latch to signal her emergence; therefore his presence was no accident.

‘You have been regaling his lordship with a fuller and more entertaining account of last evening’s delights than that with which I was able to furnish him, I imagine?’

He seemed to Harriet to be in possession of some private and amusing intelligence and this added to her sense of confusion.

Oh, well—yes—that is—I did my best to do so,’ she answered, in breathless agitation, at the same time attempting a decorous retreat to her own quarters, but he put out his hand to stay her movements.

‘Would you care to join me in a carriage ride?’ His voice suddenly seemed almost boyish in its eagerness. ‘It is such a lovely afternoon and I have to inspect some cottages. I would be honoured if you would accompany me.’

Harriet’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘That is very good of you, my lord,’ she said cautiously. ‘I confess I should be glad to get out into the air. If I may just collect my bonnet … ?’

Sandford, watching her disappear into her room, had a sudden insane urge to leap on to the banisters he was holding and slide down them, just as he and Philip had done in their youth. Instead, to March’s grinning amazement, he bounded down the stairs two at a time and ordered up the carriage.

Sitting on his box behind the driving-seat, Tiptree wondered dismally if he was witnessing his colonel’s’ last stand. Having been privy to most of the ‘guvnor’s intermittent campaigns into ‘petticoat territory’, he had to admit that he couldn’t recall anything quite like this one. There had been that stunning blonde in Vienna, he mused, until Lord Sandford had discovered that the lady was a damned sight more interested in his money than in his manners and a certain contessa in Salamanca had seemed to be streaking to the winning post except for her unfortunate tendency to gamble heavily—not one of his lordship’s favourite pastimes, Tiptree knew, considering the anguish such profligacy had brought to certain close members of the family. Other beauties had been guilty of having either no conversation at all or far too much and one memorable dazzler had kept dogs! Tiptree shuddered at the recollection of trying to keep three dribbling lapdogs under control in his lordship’s open carriage whilst his master accompanied her ladyship into a milliner’s salon. Those boots had never recovered, he thought, scowling at the back of Harriet’s chip-straw bonnet, as though she were to blame. So, what was special about this one? he wondered. Her dad had been a real good goer, he allowed, and her ma—well she had been a proper trooper in her time. He’d never heard anything either good or bad about the daughter. She was certainly no beauty, not to his taste, anyway, with her ginger hair and cat’s eyes, although she was quite a taking little thing—plucky, too and with a laugh that ‘fetched the sun out', so he’d heard Smithers say, not that there was much sign of it at the moment, he observed.

Harriet was doing her best to remember Martha’s teachings. Her back was straight, her feet were together and her gloved hands were clasped neatly in her lap. Her eyes she kept firmly to the front, on the road ahead. She had exhausted her entire fund of polite conversation, wondering glumly if the English gentlewoman’s lot in life were always this dreary and almost wishing that she had stayed at Beldale. Sandford, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself hugely. Out of the corner of her eye she had caught sight of a wide grin on his face, his beaver hat was tipped rakishly to the back of his head and his whole bearing seemed to be one of carefree relaxation, while she herself felt foolishly stiff and uncomfortable.

‘How about the hedges?’ His voice was brimming with suppressed laughter.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She half-turned towards him, and then quickly recovered.

‘Well now, let’s see,’ he continued. ‘We’ve had the weather—yes, it is extraordinarily warm for the time of year! And it is fortunate that the rain is keeping off for the haymaking and, yes, the orchards are full of fruit and, yes, I do consider thatching to be the most skilful of crafts!’

Harriet could feel a chuckle starting in her chest and struggled to suppress its unruly behaviour. ‘Wh-what about the hedges?’ she asked, holding her breath, but refusing to look at him.

‘Let’s think,’ he said, his head on one side, considering. ‘Do they need trimming, I wonder, or shall I have them pulled up, burnt down or simply consign them all to the Devil!’

Harriet put her hands up to her mouth in an effort to maintain her composure, but it was to no avail. Her lips curved into a smile, her eyes began to sparkle and the wayward chuckle burst into a peal of laughter.

A delighted Sandford reined his horses in to a halt and motioned to the widely grinning Tiptree to jump down and hold their heads. Taking out his handkerchief, the gleeful viscount then proceeded to mop up the tears of merriment that were spilling down Harriet’s cheeks.

‘Not fair—not fair,’ she gasped, pushing him away. Her lips still quivering, she attempted to straighten her bonnet, which had somehow cast itself adrift, and regarded Sandford disapprovingly from beneath her wet lashes.

‘Ah, but don’t they say ‘'all’s fair …''?’ he said, reaching out to take her hand and leaning towards her but, just at that precise moment, there came the sound of horses’ hooves on the lane and Tiptree’s low warning, ‘'Ware ‘'parkers'', guv.’

Harriet looked on with undisguised interest as Tiptree vaulted back on to his seat and the viscount spurred his team once more into action.

The occupants of the oncoming chaise saluted Sandford as the two vehicles passed one another and his lordship, although smilingly lifting his whip in reply, wished them in Hell.

Truth to tell, he was feeling slightly abashed at his conduct.

He knew perfectly well that he would have tried to kiss Harriet had it not been for the interruption, but knew equally well that their relationship was far too tenuous to survive such precipitant action. Glancing down at her, he wondered if his rash behaviour had indeed set his cause back still further. He immediately resolved to make up any lost ground without further ado, but found himself forestalled.

‘I do believe you were setting up a flirtation, my lord,’ said Harriet cheerfully, rearranging her skirts.

Sandford, totally unprepared for this challenge, reddened and could only stammer, ‘Not at all—you are mistaken—I must apologise …’

‘Oh, come now, sir,’ Harriet apostrophised. I am not a schoolgirl—you surely do not think that you are the first gentleman who has tried to kiss me? Although, upon reflection, I must confess that I have never before been ravished on the public highway!’

‘Ravished, madam!’ Sandford was appalled. ‘I have never ravished anyone in my entire life—I’ll have you know …’ He stopped, having caught sight of her laughing countenance, and grinned ruefully. ‘Touché—your hit.’

He drove on in sheepish silence for some minutes until a thought occurred to him.

‘Where did gentlemen try to kiss you, may I ask? Not since you have been under my protection, I trust?’

‘Certainly not, my lord,’ replied Harriet, demurely peeping up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. ‘There was a very dashing subaltern in Lisbon, I recall—two, as a matter of fact.’

‘And did they succeed?’ asked Sandford, all agog for her reply.

‘Succeed? Oh, I see.’ Harriet laughed in delight at his masculine phraseology. ‘Well, one did—kiss me, that is— but then the other discovered us in the alcove and offered to ‘'darken his daylights''—I believe that was the expression …?’

Sandford’s lips twitched. ‘Sounds about right,’ he said carefully. ‘What happened then?’

‘Well, my first gallant appeared to doubt the other’s ability to do any such thing and responded with a similar offer of his own—something about ‘'drawing his cork” and ‘'spilling his claret''—as I recollect.’ Harriet said mischievously.

‘Your memory serves you well,’ said Sandford, grinning as he pictured the scene. ‘And then?’

Harriet sighed deeply. ‘They then seemed to be more intent on having a mill than making love to me,’ she said, in rueful reminiscence. ‘So I returned myself to the party!’

The viscount gave a shout of laughter and lightly flicked his whip at the horses’ heads, his good humour having suddenly returned.

‘I wish I had known you in those far-off days,’ he said, recalling some of the headier moments of his own time in Portugal.

‘We were introduced on one occasion, my lord,’ she offered. ‘I doubt you will remember—I was only sixteen at the time—a mere child curtseying to your exalted personage. I fancy that your thoughts were more occupied with the very colourful señora two paces to my left …’ She dimpled at his look of shocked recollection. ‘I see that you recall the lady—a capitano’s wife, I believe?’

‘Yes—well, perhaps the least said about that particular incident, the better,’ Sandford interposed hurriedly, ignoring his passenger’s laughing eyes. ‘And that was the only time we met?’

Harriet considered. ‘My friends and I used to run to watch you ride past at the head of your company—you were something of a hero to us,’ she said, her lips curving in memory. Then she collected herself and laughed a little selfconsciously. ‘We were only children, of course—I doubt if you noticed us.’

‘I never thought of myself as a hero, certainly,’ protested Sandford, remembering many such scenes. ‘But I am sorry that I was not better acquainted with you—I wish I might have doffed my hat to you all as we rode out of town!’

‘And what ecstasies we would have fallen into then, my lord,’ replied Harriet gravely, although her mouth twitched at the corners.

Sandford’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

‘If you are trying to provoke me, Miss Cordell,’ he said, his enjoyment mounting, ‘you would do well to remember that you are no longer a child—and must therefore be prepared to accept the consequences of such fulsome encouragement.’

Harriet laughed out loud and shook her head at him. I withdraw all such comments, my lord,’ she chuckled. ‘And you may be assured that I had outgrown all such adulation well before my teens had ended.’

‘Now that is a pity,’ Sandford groaned, in mock despair.

‘I was quite prepared to accept just a modicum of adulation.’