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

Sandford stared down at the girl in frowning consternation. No rough serving wench, as he immediately realised on hearing her voice, but surely no young lady of any breeding would appear in public, wearing such shocking attire?

‘You must forgive us, ma’am,’ he said curtly. ‘You were hurt at the roadside—we brought you here—thinking you to be a boy!’

The girl flushed slightly, but a wan smile crossed her face. ‘Yes, well—I am in disguise, you see—could you help me up, do you think?’ She swung her breeched legs gingerly to the ground and Tiptree grabbed her arm as she swayed forward.

‘Oh, dear,’ she groaned. ‘I seem not to be quite myself—perhaps I should sit for a moment or two.’

Sandford controlled his impatience with difficulty as the girl stared up at him in silent expectation, waiting, he supposed, for him to make the first move.

‘Allow me to present myself, ma’am,’ he eventually managed. ‘Sandford of Beldale at your service—Tiptree here is my man. You must forgive my haste—but I am on most urgent business and I have no time to waste, so I beg you to acquaint me with your destination and I shall see to it that you return home as quickly as possible.’

‘Oh, no! You don’t understand!’ the girl retorted crossly, as she once again attempted to rise. ‘I have run away—they were trying to force me to marry—Did you say Sandford?’ She looked up at him, amazement in her voice. ‘Not Colonel Sandford? But yes! I can see that you are indeed he!’

She was, at once, on her feet and staring hard at his countenance.

‘I can claim that honour, ma’am,’ Sandford replied stiffly, ‘but you have the advantage—should I know you?’

‘Well, you hardly would—even if you remembered—in this outfit,’ countered the young lady, deftly straightening her clothing. ‘Allow me to introduce myself—Harriet Cordell—Sir Jonathan was my father—you will not have forgotten him, I’m sure.’ She looked at him confidently.

Sandford nodded slowly. ‘No, indeed. Our paths crossed many times in Spain. So you are Major Jon’s daughter?’

He surveyed the grubby apparition before him and Harriet had the grace to blush.

‘But what scrape is this that you are in? Your parents settled in Lincolnshire, as I recollect? How do you come to be in Leicestershire—and in this rig? Is it some sort of wager?’

‘No. It is as I said—I have run away from my home. I took the stableboy’s clothing and left yesterday morning before the house was up. I have walked miles and miles and I slept last night in a hayloft after the owner had put the horses to bed!’

She looked about her in sudden concern. ‘Did you recover my bundle? My purse and gown are in it—I don’t see it here.’

Sandford glanced at Tiptree, who shook his head. ‘We had our hands full with you, miss,’ he said apologetically. ‘I’ll go back down the road and take a look, sir, shall I—but I doubt it’ll still be there. It’s a busy road.’

At the nod from his master he left the room.

Just then the landlady re-entered, bearing a tray of refreshments, which Sandford, stepping forward, took from her hands, at the same time sending a warning frown to Harriet to remain silent.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Our patient has recovered. This fare will set us up and we will all be on our way without delay. Here’s for your trouble.’

He pressed some coins into her hand, ushered her out of the door and returned to the table. Selecting some of the cold pie and a piece of chicken, he handed the plate to Harriet and instructed her to eat the food.

‘And no missish airs, if you please,’ he commanded sternly. ‘A seasoned campaigner, such as you are, will be well used to eating what’s to hand. You spent your youth in the train, I collect?’ He helped himself to some food and sat down at the table, regarding her with undisguised curiosity as he ate.

‘I admit to having little appetite,’ Harriet acquiesced politely. ‘And I do have the most throbbing headache, but I shall do my best to take some nourishment. We—Mama and I—learned that lesson in the Peninsula. As you say, we often travelled with the baggage-train, along with the other wives and families. Our quarters were generally quite good, however, and we had our abigail, Martha, with us. Papa went out to Gibraltar when I was tiny and, of course, we went with him, for we had always stayed together …’ Her voice trembled slightly and she took a sip from the glass he had poured for her, pulling a face.

‘Ugh! Porter! I could never become accustomed to that!’

She was immediately comforted by the sight of his quick grin and covertly studied her rescuer. Throughout her childhood she had listened in awe to the many tales of his daring exploits, so was intrigued and, she had to admit, not a little

nervous at meeting her one-time hero at such close quarters. She recollected having been presented to him at a ball in Lisbon, but this had been in her youth and she doubted that the great man would recall such an insignificant incident.

Having cast off both his driving-coat and jacket, Sandford was now in his shirtsleeves, riding breeches and top boots, all of which displayed his good shoulders and strong limbs to advantage. Although not precisely handsome, the viscount was blessed with regular features, crisp brown hair and a pair of steady grey eyes with which he now sat and frowningly surveyed her as she nibbled at her pie.

There was a tap at the door and Tiptree entered, empty-handed. Harriet jumped up and started forward.

‘Oh, no! Don’t say you could not find it! Now I am in the suds!’ She spun round to face Sandford. ‘I wonder, sir—could I prevail upon you to advance me some money? I need to get to the staging post, you see. I am going to seek out my grandfather. I am sure he will help me …’ She broke off lamely. ‘What must you think of me? I will tell you the whole, if you can spare me your time?’

Sandford sighed resignedly. ‘My business is most pressing, to be sure, but I cannot just walk out and leave you here. Tiptree, come and eat while I hear Miss Cordell’s tale.’ He rose from his chair and seated himself on the window settle next to the couch Harriet had just chosen.

‘I will be quick, for I can tell that your time is precious,’ she said gratefully. ‘You may have heard that Papa was injured at Nivelle and we returned to England before Napoleon escaped from Elba, so we were not involved in the Belgian campaign—much to Papa’s fury. He had been hit in the chest and never really recovered and he—he died last year, before the victory. Mama was totally to pieces and our neighbour—who farms the land next to ours—was so very helpful to us, arranging the funeral and organising the farmworkers to carry on and—so many things I shan’t tire you with. Anyway, somehow she grew to depend upon him and his advice and, just after Easter—three months ago—she agreed to marry him. Would you believe it, after being married to Papa for more than twenty years! I think Sir Chester is quite the most odious of men and as for his son—words fail me!’

Harriet clenched her fists and her slim frame shuddered. ‘That was it, you see. Sir Chester had married Mama, thinking that she was wealthy—but Papa had left everything to me, in trust until I am twenty-five or marry. Mama has the interest from the trust and a generous competence, of course. Papa was not a rich man, but we were always secure, and he had also inherited the family farm when his cousin died. However, to the point; when he discovered that it will be another five years before I inherit the estate, Sir Chester started pushing his horrid son at me and throwing us together at every opportunity—he was determined to make a match, but I was very unco-operative, I can assure you! Two days ago I overheard them planning to abduct me and force an elopement, so I knew I had to get away before I found myself Mistress Gilbert Middleton!’

She was obliged to stop to compose herself and Sandford took the opportunity to ask, ‘You mentioned a grandparent—he lives in Leicestershire? Perhaps I can take you to him?’ but Harriet shook her head and, after taking a deep breath, hurriedly continued with her explanation.

‘Mama’s father—he is a Scottish landowner, but she eloped with Papa when she was eighteen and she has had no contact with him since. I understand that he lives somewhere to the north of Edinburgh …’

She then looked hopefully at Sandford, who had risen to his feet and was reaching for his jacket. Laying her hand upon his arm, she beseeched him urgently, ‘Please, my lord, will you lend me some money so that I can continue my journey? I was trying to reach Grantham for the staging-post. I believe the coaches leave for Edinburgh at six every morning. We cannot be far away, if you would be so kind as to convey me there?’

‘Absolutely not!’ retorted Sandford, shrugging into his driving-coat. ‘You, my dear Miss Cordell, will accompany me to Beldale where my mother will see to you. You must see that I cannot possibly leave you here alone in this inn. As for allowing you to travel by public stage to some unknown destination—you must be all about in your head still, if you imagine that I will do that! Now, tidy yourself and wash your face while Tiptree sees if the old dame has a cloak or something we can persuade her to sell!’

Somewhat incensed at his lordship’s overbearing dismissal of her project, but suspecting that her protestations would be in vain, Harriet allowed herself to be bundled into the viscount’s curricle and, wrapped in the hooded cape procured from the landlady (who had made herself a considerable profit from the morning’s unexpected activities), resentfully succumbed to her fate.

The journey to Beldale was completed almost in silence, with Harriet and Sandford each engrossed in their own thoughts, and Tiptree, seated behind them, wondering if his lordship had allowed his concern for his father’s welfare to overset his usually sound judgement.

Sandford was, ruefully, wondering much the same. His mother would have had enough on her plate, he realised, without this additional complication, having hardly had time to mourn her son. Now to be faced with a serious and possibly life-threatening injury to her beloved husband must require all of Lady Caroline’s resources. From her hastily scribbled missive he had gathered that Beldale had been thrown, or had fallen, from his horse while returning from estate rounds and had lain helpless in the woods for some hours. His failure to arrive at the stables had eventually alerted the grooms but, although a search party had then quickly located the injured man, it appeared that drenching rain had exacerbated his condition. He had been given the best medical attention available but he had slipped in and out of consciousness as a raging fever had taken hold. His physician had voiced his worst fears and, after a frantic three days, Lady Caroline had reluctantly sent for her son.

Sandford, having lost the precious time he had gained from his headlong dash out of the city, concentrated on his driving and, for most of the journey, refrained from making any sort of conversation until, leaning forward to spring his horses on a straight section of road, he happened to glance sideways and noticed Harriet’s white and set face.

‘Not so far now,’ he announced bracingly. ‘We turn off at the next village and then it is a mere three miles to the lodge.’

Harriet nodded glumly. Still feeling the effects of the bump on her head and gradually becoming more aware of other painful areas of her body, she found herself growing increasingly nervous at the thought of the forthcoming interview with the Countess of Beldale. Although her upbringing had been an uncommon one, leaving her with a lack of some of the more usual feminine accomplishments, it had taught her to be very self-reliant. Her common sense now warned her that it was going to be difficult to justify clothing herself in male garb, whatever provocation had led her to do so. Hadn’t Mama and Martha frequently been obliged to remind her that she was a lady and that, even in extreme circumstances, she must always endeavour to behave as such?

It had never been her intention to allow anyone of consequence to see her in her disguise. She had supposed that, as a stable lad, she would pass unnoticed on the roadside and that, hidden from view behind some barn or other, she could have changed into her carefully folded good dress and covered her hastily cropped hair with her ample bonnet before boarding the coach for Scotland. She had brought away a purse full of guineas so had expected to travel in reasonable comfort once she reached the staging route. She had not, of course, allowed for this disastrous turn of events.

Having spent her formative years following the army on the continent, she believed that she was well able to take care of herself. She was a skilled and daring horsewoman, having learned her craft under the unforgiving eyes of the grooms and cavalry officers of her father’s regiment with whom she had been quite a favourite, with her swinging amber ringlets and her slim, boyish figure. Always willing to attempt the impossible, she had usually managed to remain steadfastly cheerful in the most disheartening conditions.

Not quite so cheerful at the moment however, she saw, with very mixed feelings, that the carriage was negotiating a narrow curve running through a small, picturesque village. The sun was already nestling down into the puffs of cloud above the nearby hills and its light was fading quickly. She held her breath in admiration as Sandford turned his horses into a broad carriage-drive with hardly a check, raising his whip in response to the lodge-keeper’s salute as they swept through the high, wrought-iron gates.

She was unable to appreciate the extent of the parkland flashing past her and, in reality, was in no mood to do so for, as the cream stone façade of the elegant house came into view, her apprehension increased.

The great front doors were already on the point of opening as the carriage reached the steps and an elegantly attired lady of mature years was hastening out to meet Lord Sandford who, having cast the reins at Tiptree, had leapt down from his perch and was taking the stone steps two at a time with his hands outstretched.

‘Father? How is he?’ he cried, anxiously clasping his mother’s hands. ‘I am not—too late?’

But her ladyship was smiling. ‘Robbie—oh, my dear! His lordship has rallied!’ she replied joyfully. ‘But I’m so glad that you have returned! The physician is with him now—come along, quickly. He will be wanting to speak with you.’

The countess urged her son into the hallway as she spoke and, throwing his driving-coat to a waiting footman, Sandford bounded up the wide, curving staircase. Halfway to the landing he checked, turned and, with his hand on the banister, exclaimed, ‘Good grief! I almost forgot—Miss Cordell ! She is still in the curricle!’

She was not. When the groomsmen had taken the horses’ heads, Tiptree had handed Harriet down and she had nervously climbed the steps in Sandford’s wake, expecting him at least to account for her presence but, with increasing agitation, she realised that she herself would once again be responsible for the difficult explanations. She stepped hesitatingly into the well-lit hall as Lady Caroline turned in puzzlement towards her, then stiffened momentarily as she heard her ladyship’s gasp of astonishment.