A Lady for Lord Randall

She nodded. ‘It does seem rather frivolous to be discussing art and philosophy when the fate of Europe hangs in the balance.’

‘Just so.’ He glanced at her fingers, which were holding her closed fan. The right hand was folded over the left so he could not see any ring, but she had such poise and confidence that he guessed she was a married woman. He glanced about the room. ‘Which of these gentlemen is your husband?’

‘Oh, I am not married.’ She chuckled. ‘Actually, that applies to a number of the women here tonight, but in my case I am not in a union with anyone, either. Many here are opposed to the concept of marriage,’ she explained. ‘No church ceremony can bind a man and woman together, only love can do that. Love, and a commonality of intellectual interests, of course.’

Her eyes were fixed on his face and he had the impression she was trying to shock him.

‘And is that your conviction, too?’

He had the satisfaction of seeing that his blunt question had discomposed her, but then he was a little sorry when she looked away from him.

‘It is what I was brought up to believe.’

He said, ‘It would require a great deal of trust on the woman’s part, I think, to enter into such a union without the blessing of the church. She would not have the protection of the man’s name.’

‘She would not become his property, either. The current law is a scandalous state of affairs and has serious disadvantages for a woman.’

He inclined his head.

‘Very true, Miss Endacott.’

A female of decided opinions. Not his type at all.

‘Ah, Mary, so you have met my brother.’

He had not seen Harriett come up, but now she linked arms with Miss Endacott.

‘We introduced ourselves,’ he said shortly.

‘I would not have thought that necessary,’ said Harriett. ‘Did you not recognise the nose, Mary? All the Latymors have it, and any number of villagers, too, thanks to Papa. At home one could never walk through Chalfont Magna without encountering at least two of his by-blows. Oh, there is no need for you to look daggers at me, Randall, Mary knows all about our father’s dissolute ways. We are very old friends, you see. We were at Miss Burchell’s Academy together.’

He relaxed, just a little. So the forward Miss Endacott was one of Harriett’s free-thinking school friends.

‘That explains a great deal,’ he murmured.

Harriett’s eyes twinkled. ‘Has Mary outraged you with her radical ideas? Her parents were great admirers of Mrs Godwin—Mary Wollstonecraft—hence her name.’

Miss Endacott chuckled, a soft, warm sound that was very pleasing to the ear.

‘I certainly tried to be outrageous, Hattie, but your brother would not rise to the bait.’

‘Well, you know he is a soldier, and commands a company of rogues, so he is most likely unshockable.’

With two pairs of eyes fixed upon him, two laughing faces turned up to his, Randall felt ill at ease. He gave a little nod and left them. By God, he would prefer to face a charge by French cavalry than these teasing women! He passed Theo, who was at the centre of a group of clerics and rather surprisingly arguing for Catholic emancipation, and moved on to a group of young men who were discussing the Lake poets, but he was thankful when Mr Bentinck came up and carried him away.

‘You do not look to be enjoying yourself, my lord.’

‘I confess I have little in common with your guests,’ replied Randall carefully ‘I came to please my sister.’

‘Ah, yes. Mrs Graveney.’ His host nodded. ‘She may prefer not to be known as Lady Harriett these days but she is very proud of you, you know. She likes the fact that you followed your grandfather into the artillery rather than buying a commission. Well, sir, there are fellows over here whose conversation might be more to your taste.’

Bentinck took him across to a cluster of tradesmen who were eager for news of Bonaparte. Randall stayed for a while, discussing the latest situation and how it might affect their business, before moving on.

The good dinner his sister had provided at Somervil, plus the Bentincks’ excellent wines, were having an effect. Randall felt more relaxed, more able to participate in the conversations, but even as he did so, he found his eyes straying to Mary Endacott as she moved around the room. Her figure was very good and she had a natural grace. He liked the way the swing of her hips set the thin skirts of her muslin gown fluttering in the most alluring fashion as she walked. When she passed close to him he stepped away from the group he was with to talk to her.

‘You are not enamoured of any of the discussions, Miss Endacott?’

‘On the contrary, I find them all fascinating, but a heated debate on theology with Mr Graveney has left me sadly thirsty.’

‘Allow me.’ He accompanied her to the table at the side of the room, where an array of jugs and decanters were set out. He filled two wine glasses and held one out to her.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am sure you are more used to raising a finger and having a servant wait upon you.’

‘Trying to put me to the blush, Miss Endacott? You will not succeed.’ He followed her to a vacant sofa and sat down beside her. ‘I am a soldier and accustomed to much rougher conditions than these.’

She laughed.

‘Of course you are. Hattie has told me all about Randall’s Rogues, the raff and scaff of the military gathered into one troop. Men it is impossible to place elsewhere. If you had not taken them most would have been hanged by now.’ She sipped at the wine. ‘I do not approve of war, but your efforts in this case are admirable; you have turned them into a formidable unit. From the despatches I read in the newspapers they acquitted themselves well in the Peninsula.’

‘They are all good artillerymen.’

‘Perhaps they have a good colonel.’

Randall shrugged.

‘I demand only two things, Miss Endacott, unquestioning obedience and loyalty.’

She shook her head at him.

‘Loyalty I can understand, but unquestioning obedience? I do not think I could give anyone that.’ She gave a little shrug and smiled at him. ‘Nevertheless, I have to congratulate you on your success, sir. To take such unpromising material and turn them into a crack artillery troop is no mean feat.’

‘A man’s background is nothing to me, as long as he can fight.’

‘But how does one control such men?’ she asked him.

‘Iron discipline. The lash and the rope. When a man joins the Rogues he knows it is his last chance.’

He saw the disapproval in her eyes.

‘That is a brutal way to go on, my lord.’

‘It is necessary. In war a man must know he can rely on his comrades.’

‘I would there were no wars and no need for armies.’

‘That is a dream of all reasonable beings, madam.’

He leaned back, watching the changing emotions flicker across her countenance.