Mistress Of Madderlea

He called for the young ladies the following afternoon, not at all sure he was going to enjoy the outing. It might be the way Society dictated a man should court a lady, but it was not his way. It was too artificial. He felt a sham, dressed to make a killing in double-breasted frockcoat of dark green superfine, soft buckskin breeches and curly-brimmed top hat. He was not averse to dressing well, but to do so to catch a young lady smacked of hypocrisy.

Sophie and Charlotte were waiting in the drawing room for him. There was still a keen edge to the wind and so Charlotte had chosen to wear a blue carriage dress in fine merino wool which almost exactly matched the colour of her eyes. It was topped by a blue cape and a fetching bonnet trimmed with pink ruched silk in a shade that echoed the rose in her cheeks. She looked delightfully fresh and innocent.

Sophie, on the other hand, determined not to shine, was dressed in grey from head to foot and would not be persuaded to change her mind, when Charlotte said she had made herself look like a poor relation.

‘But that is exactly what I am, Charlotte dear,’ she had said. ‘I am your chaperon, after all.’

There was no time to go back to her room and change, even if she had wanted to, for his lordship was announced at that moment and, after the usual courtesies, they made their way out to his lordship’s barouche. And what a carriage; it made Lady Fitzpatrick’s town coach, which stood beside it ready to convey her ladyship to her appointment, look even shabbier.

It was a shining black affair with the Rathbone coat of arms emblazoned on both doors and seats comfortably upholstered in red velvet. The driver, in impeccable uniform of tailcoat, striped waistcoat and knee breeches, was sitting on the box, whip in hand. His lordship put a hand under Charlotte’s elbow and helped her into her seat, then turned to do the same for Sophie, but she was already climbing in, disdaining his assistance. He smiled at this show of independence and took his own seat and, giving the driver an almost imperceptible nod, they set off, with Luke riding demurely half a head behind on Charlotte’s little mare.

Chapter Three

It was a perfect late spring day and the carriageway in the park was crowded with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, and as they were all going at little more than walking pace it was almost like a parade. Richard seemed to know or be known by almost everyone and they frequently drew to a halt for the girls to be presented to the occupants of other carriages. They were also hailed frequently by riders from the nearby gallop, who reined in to speak to Richard, while casting admiring glances at Charlotte, who sat smiling beside him, enjoying every minute.

Sophie hardly rated a second look, but that had its advantages in that she could take time to gaze about her, to make her own assessment of the wide range of characters who took part in the traditional afternoon procession. They ranged from dowagers to schoolgirls, not yet out, Lady This and the Countess of That, as well as some whom Sophie was sure came from the demi-monde and rode by with all the aplomb and self-confidence in the world, twirling their parasols.

There were dandies and rakes, army officers resplendent in uniform, a few naval officers and more than a sprinkling of hopefuls who did not fit into any category but wished they did. Not one took her eye…except the man sitting in the seat opposite her and conversing so easily with her cousin at his side.

He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, his features lined by exposure to sun and wind. He exuded masculinity; it came over so strongly it took her breath away. If only…She sighed and suddenly found his attention focused on her. ‘You do not agree, Miss Hundon?’

She had not been attending to the conversation and found herself at a loss. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord, I was daydreaming.’

He smiled. Her eyes had held a faraway look, as if she were thinking of some absent admirer. In Upper Corbury in the county of Leicestershire, perhaps. He had just learned from Miss Roswell that that was where the Hundons had their home. ‘Miss Roswell was commenting on the number of officers still in uniform and expressing the hope that the peace may last and they will no longer be needed to fight.’

‘Oh, to that I most heartily agree, but my sympathies are with the common soldiers, who know no other means of earning a living. I think it is shameful just to turn them loose, after they have fought so well for their country. We worry about Spain and Portugal, France and Austria, send delegates to the Congress of Vienna to ensure justice on the continent and we ignore the problems nearer home. It is no wonder there are riots. And ranging militia against unarmed men and women who are only trying to have their voices heard is not the way to go on.’

He was inclined to agree with her, but the challenge was there, in her voice and in her greeny-grey eyes, and he could not resist the temptation to rise to it. ‘Law and order must be kept or we will descend into anarchy.’

‘Oh, that is the answer we are given for every act of repression. Shoot them, cut them down. Throw them in prison and hope everyone will forget them. Suspending the Habeas Corpus Act was a monstrous denial of justice.’

He smiled. ‘I collect your father is a lawyer. Have you learned such sentiments from him?’

In her fervour, she had forgotten her uncle’s profession and she had not heard him express any views on the subject. He was not a man to discuss either his clients or the state of the economy with his daughter and niece. Young ladies, in his opinion, did not need to know of such things. She glanced at Charlotte from beneath the brim of her bonnet, but her cousin was staring straight ahead, a bright pink spot on each cheek.

‘No, my lord, but I read a great deal and have always been encouraged to think for myself.’ She knew she was on dangerous ground and hurriedly reverted to the original subject under discussion. ‘If work could be found for the discharged soldiers, they would not be discontent.’ And then, because she could not resist having a dig at him. ‘It is all very well for the officers, for they have families and estates and education to help them…’

He laughed. ‘Touché, my dear Miss Hundon. But, you know, families and estates bring their own responsibilities.’

She smiled at that, thinking of her own situation, but he saw only sparkling greeny-grey eyes and a mouth that was made for smiling. And kissing. God in heaven, what had made him think that? She was nothing more than a country mouse, a little grey one. No, he amended, that description was inaccurate, for she was tall and her movements were not the quick scurrying of a tiny rodent, but the measured movement of a stalking cat.

‘Yes, my lord, the responsibility to marry well, to produce heirs. It is, I am persuaded, a form of vanity.’

‘Sophie!’ Charlotte cried. ‘How can you say that when you—’

‘Miss Hundon is entitled to her opinion, Miss Roswell. Do not scold her.’ He was looking at Sophie as he spoke and she felt herself shrink under his gaze, though she would not let him see it. ‘You are surely not implying your cousin is vain?’

‘Nothing was further from my thoughts, my lord,’ she said truthfully. ‘No one could be less vain or more sweet-natured than my cousin. But her case is exceptional. She is a young lady who has inherited a large estate, but cannot have the governing of it. Society has decreed that that can only be done by a man. She must have a husband or give up her home entirely.’

‘Sophie, please…’ Charlotte begged. ‘You are being excessively impertinent, when Lord Braybrooke has been so kind as to invite us to share his carriage. He does not wish to hear…’ She stopped in confusion.

‘Oh, my dearest, I did not mean to put you to the blush,’ Sophie said, contrite. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

What had come over her was a strong desire to pierce Lord Braybrooke’s self-assurance, to stop him looking at her in that half-mocking way and take her seriously. But why? Why did it matter so much?

They had come to the end of the carriageway and the driver turned the barouche skilfully and set out on the return journey, while the two girls chatted, their disagreement forgotten.

Richard was intrigued, not only by Miss Hundon, but by the relationship which existed between the two girls. That they were close he did not doubt, but they were so different. Miss Hundon was outspoken and opinionated, almost the blue stocking he had decried, and her dress sense left a great deal to be desired but as he was not considering her for a wife, he told himself it was of no consequence.

On the other hand, Miss Roswell, who did have many of the attributes he had so carefully listed to Martin, including her own fortune, did not stir him to any kind of passion, either of desire or anger. Her skirts, brushing against his leg in the carriage, did not make him want to increase the pressure, to touch her, to kiss her, pretty though she was. Perhaps that would come, when he came to know her better, when she relaxed a little in his company and opened out to him. At the moment she was stiff and tense, almost as if she were afraid of him. Miss Hundon was not afraid.

He pushed thoughts of Miss Sophie Hundon from him and turned to converse with Miss Roswell, trying to bring her out, to show her there was nothing to fear, but she had suddenly gone mute. He could get nothing out of her but ‘Yes, my lord’ or ‘No, my lord’ or ‘Indeed?’

Sophie, now that his attention was engaged elsewhere, was able to relax a little. The carriage bowled smoothly along and she found herself thinking that they must be seen in the park more often, but it would not do to be too frequently in the company of Lord Braybrooke. He was not the only eligible in Town and he needn’t think he was! They certainly could not drive out in Lady Fitz’s town coach; they would be a laughing stock.

She would buy an equipage of her own, one with the Roswell crest emblazoned on the door, and drawn by matched cattle which would be the envy of the ton. The thought brought a smile to her lips, a smile not lost on Richard Braybrooke, who was taken aback by the way it lit her whole countenance and made what he had hitherto considered a somewhat unexceptional face into a beautiful one. He was lost in wonder and a sudden arousal of desire which made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. It was the second time she had done this to him, and he resented it.

He was supposed to be searching for a wife, a wife with very particular virtues, not lusting after a poor country cousin. Did she know the effect she was having on him? Was it deliberate? If so, she might be agreeable to a little dalliance if he made it worth her while. It might serve to bring him back to his usual salubrious self and he could then concentrate on the task in hand, wooing the heiress.

He allowed himself to savour the prospect for a few delightful seconds before banishing it. He was not in the army now, he could no longer take whichever wench fluttered her eyelids at him in invitation. He had never had to pay for his pleasures, but neither had he bedded an unmarried gentlewoman. The idea was unthinkable. And yet he had thought it. He shook himself and made more strenuous efforts to engage the attention of Miss Charlotte Roswell.

‘Tell me about Madderlea,’ he said, deciding that was surely a subject on which she would find it easy to converse, but apart from telling him that it was near the north Norfolk coast and very extensive, she volunteered no information. In fact she seemed very agitated. Did she think he was more interested in her inheritance than in her? He smiled and dropped the subject.

When they drew up outside Lady Fitzpatrick’s front door, he jumped out to hand Charlotte down while the coachman knocked at the door, then turned to help Sophie.

About to step down behind her cousin, she held out her hand for him to grasp, but instead she found his lordship’s hands spanning her waist. Startled, she said nothing as he lifted her down and deposited her on the pavement. He did not immediately release her, but stood smiling down at her, his brown eyes looking into hers, almost as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She moved her gaze to his mouth and wished she had not. It was a strong mouth, so close to hers, she could feel the warmth of his breath. Even as she looked, it seemed to move closer. Surely he was not going to kiss her, not here, in the street? Why couldn’t she move away? Why couldn’t she speak?

‘Miss Hundon,’ he said, and managed to convey a deal of meaning in it. ‘I enjoyed our little sparring match. I hope you will afford me the opportunity of a return bout before too long.’

She had no idea what he meant and her legs were so shaky she thought she would fall if he released her, but she did not intend to be intimidated. She stepped back and found the ground stayed beneath her feet, the sky was in its correct position above her head and, though her breathing was erratic, she was in no danger of swooning. She forced a smile. ‘My lord, such a manly pursuit as fisticuffs is hardly in my repertoire.’

He grinned and turned to escort her to the door, where Charlotte stood looking back at them. ‘You and Miss Roswell do ride, though?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

He looked up at Charlotte as they approached her. ‘Miss Hundon tells me you both ride,’ he said. ‘Would you care to join Mr Gosport and me for a gentle canter tomorrow morning? If you have no mounts, I can easily find some for you.’

Charlotte hesitated, looking to Sophie to indicate whether or not she wanted her to accept. ‘I am not sure what engagements we have,’ she said.

‘Why, Charlotte, we said we were going to bespeak a carriage tomorrow and Lady Fitzpatrick recommended Robinson and Cook, don’t you remember?’

Charlotte remembered no such thing, but she smiled and said, ‘Oh, yes, I had quite forgot. I am sorry, my lord.’

‘Another time, then,’ he said, smiling affably. ‘But, forgive me, who will advise you on your purchase? Lady Fitzpatrick…’ He left the sentence hovering in the air.

‘We shall take Luke, our groom, with us and he will consult the proprietor,’ Sophie said.

‘I doubt that will ensure a satisfactory deal,’ he said. ‘Allow me to offer my services.’