A Lady's Plight (Lords of Sussex)
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Authors: Katy Walters
C
opyright 2012 Katy Walters
Oakwood House Publishing
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events
are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
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To dear Nicola with love.
'How could you? You promised.' She leapt to her feet, sending the bucket of champagne tumbling on the grass. 'I've waited four years - four years.'
Reaching to save the bottle, Lord Alexander Fitzroy, the Earl of Standford spluttered, '
Deuce Isa, I can hardly refuse can I?'
'What about the wedding
, the arrangements, the guests? How could you?'
'I have no choice; the invitation - command rather was given into my hand, this morning. General Maddeson expects me as his aide-de-campe in Brussels.'
'You could say no - just this once. He knew of our nuptials; he's a guest for pity's sake.'
Alexander rose to his feet, his arms outstretched to placate her. He planned an idyllic picnic, hors d'oeuvres, ham, chicken, goose foie gras and champagne
, now he faced her wrath. 'Bonaparte escaped Elba; he's in France. The General's request is an honour I cannot refuse. I would be ostracized from the regiment - egad, from the
ton.
'
'Don't start talking about honour. You use that each time.'
His eyes embraced her bosom heaving with anger. In two long strides, he grabbed her, drawing her close, intending to kiss her to silence.
Struggling she gasped, '
Unhand me Alex, this time you will not win.'
Smiling, he held her fast, 'Look, I shall be back within a couple of months. We can then marry. I'm sure the
countess will delay the nuptials?'
'She's already delayed them each year for four years. Dammit - let me go.'
Perceiving he was laughing at her, anger surged through her body, pumping blood to her head. How dare he treat marriage so lightly, it was an insult to her and her family. Gritting her teeth, she stamped on his foot.
Eyebrows
raised, his sea blue eyes twinkling, he said, 'I think that hurt you more than it did me.'
She grimaced; he was right; her silk slippers had little effect on heavy Hessian boots. 'Let me go.'
His answer was to drag her down on the blanket, smothering her face with kisses. He felt her loosen against him, her lips quivering. Raising his head, he said, 'I love you Isabella - we will be together - soon.'
She willed herself not to give in; it would mean another year of waiting, another year without him. She wanted to be his wife,
to wake up to him every morning. She had to fight him for this.
She wilted, only to take a deep breath, and clench her teeth. No, he
wouldn't win. Before their engagement, he was a rake of the first order. With his raven black hair dressed in the Brutus style, the curls framed a face that modelled a Grecian statue; God knows how many hapless girls he had seduced? However, on offering for her, he promised to remain faithful. Yet, even now, he may have a mistress installed in Brussels. 'If you must go, then I will go with you,'
He raised his head, and sitting up, drew her to him. 'No sweetheart, you can't. You will meet with too many dangers. I will not be around to protect you all the time.'
'You have a mistress out there haven't you?'
'Darling I am true to you - God knows why, with your temper.'
'Temper? Is fighting for my rights mere temper? Besides, a couple of my friends are already out in Brussels having a grand time, dinners, the theatre, opera, and lavish balls. So I shall join them.'
'I forbid it; I will not allow you to put yourself in jeopardy. In this, you will obey me.'
Isabella's face reddened, narrowing the jade eyes. 'What? Forbid? Not allow? Obey? Whom do you think you're addressing - some nincompoop - some ignoramus unpicking her embroidery?'
'Look I don't want to frighten you, but war is imminent. Women out there could lose their lives. We cannot trust
the little Corsican.'
Pushing him away, Isabella rose to her knees, her hands fisted on her hips. 'Don't tell me what is not good for me. I will make my own choices.
And, never - ever use that word obey again. '
'I don't think the
countess would approve, and as for your Papa, he knows there could be war. He will have an apoplexy. You have to obey them, even if you do not obey me.'
'I am three and twenty years Alex; Papa respects my decisions. So do not use my parents as an excuse.'
'Why are you so determined to come with me? If we went to war, our tent would be a tarpaulin slung on wooden posts. Is that what you want? Mud and putrid food.'
‘
I know the tents to be otherwise. Why in the Peninsula wars, they lived in luxury, the tents even had a separate bedroom, so don't try and fool me.'
Alex frowned, darn it;
she was in a mood. 'But my pet, there is so little time left to procure a house. Besides, there's the question of more servants, and a maid for you.'
'I'm, not your little pet - for God's sake treat me like a woman.'
'Why I'll be pleased to do so.' He lunged for her, pulling her to him.
Fighting him off, Isabella went for the kill. 'In the Peninsula Wars, the wives stayed in the pensions or hotels. They watched the battles from the edge of the field
.'
'Gad, some of the ladies lost their lives, been mortally wounded. Even the other month, one of the wives dragged her husband off the field,
and had half her head blown away by a canon. '
Wincing, Isa poured herself a glass of champagne, 'Well I haven't heard that particular story.
Don't dramatize, Alex. I have made up my mind, if you are intent on going to Brussels, then I shall honour your decision, but I will go with you.'
'Absolutely out of the question -
now let us have no more of this nonsense. Pour me one will you?'
Duly filling his glass, she threw it at him. As he wiped his face with a linen handkerchief, she hissed, '
Now listen to me Alex - I am coming, even if I have to run away and make for Brussels alone.'
'Honestly
, you are a little hoyden. How pray are we to marry in four days?'
'
Easily – a special license. You can manage that surely. Alex, I am going to Brussels, and that is an end to it.'
'I repeat, no - definitely - no.'
Isa looked at him. 'You know it is useless to argue. There is no more to be said. We go together.' Pouring him another glass of champagne, she said, 'Alex - I love you; ache for you; I have been a virgin too long.'
He took the glass draining it in one go. Putting it down on the tablecloth, he looked at the dark ringlets
, tiny waist and curvaceous hips. She never ceased to arouse him. He edged up to her, ready to take her in is arms, kiss those full pouting lips.
S
he backed away. 'We must marry forthwith. Papa will arrange that. However, it will be just us and the family.'
He took a breath. 'Well, thank
the lord for that.'
'Is that why you accepted the command, to escape the wedding nuptials?'
Lifting his glass, he smiled wryly. 'To my lovely virgin - you win.'
'Now to break the news
to Mama – she’ll have one of her fits.' Her lips found his, her fingers curling into his long hair.
Groaning, in one swoop of his powerful arms, he
pulled her onto his lap maybe marriage would be a good idea, he longed to do more than kiss her.
Two
The Countess of Winton's eyes widened, her cheeks paling to match the violet silk of her dress. With her hand across her bosom, she said, 'I can't stand it, not again.'
The
earl harrumphed, a tall man with a slightly stooped back; he peered at her through a series of silver candelabra and centre pieces. He continued, cutting through the rare venison, the bright red blood pooling around the broccoli. 'My dear, maybe tis just as well. I must say I was not looking forward to that palaver, streams of people staying overnight, and the hours in the church. Just a short service, say the words and be done with it, I say.'
At the other end of the long mahogany table, the
countess searched her reticule. 'Where's my smelling bottle? Surely, I shall faint if you say more.' Pulling it out, it stood as a threat beside her plate.
Isabella knew any moment now her mother would act out a faint, waving the harts' horn under her nose, rather that, than one of her fits of temper, throwing anything to hand. Many a crystal glass shattered on the evening dining table.
Alexander gazed at Isa, her dark hair, contrasting against the pale blue silk of the walls. She was indeed lovelier than any of the ancestral portraits dotted about the room. Aware that the countess was about to close the argument with a swoon, he said smoothly, 'My lady it is not only my duty; it is an honour to be the General's aide-de-campe, why many officers in the First Foot Guards would give an eye tooth for such a position. I may well travel with Captain Gronow.'
The
earl nodded, the candlelight picking up the fire of his diamond and ruby stickpin in a high-collared cravat. 'See my dear; another feather in our cap, Alex is actually travelling out with the Dandy, a friend of Prinny - why he eclipses Beau Brummel for fashion.'
~
The countess said tartly, 'Tis not the time to drool over dandies and that Brummell is in trouble with Prinny after calling him a 'fat friend'. Let us keep to the subject; we cannot put the marriage back yet again; our girl is already past her bloom.' Angrily, she switched the ostrich plumed fan.
Isa looked up startled. 'Mama - please. I am just three and twenty.'
'Yes, I am well aware of that Isabella. Many of the debutantes marry in their first season - seventeen, even sixteen. By your age, they have children. Why at this rate, Letitia will marry before you.'
'Mama she is nearly fifteen - a child.'
'I will have you know some girls marry at fifteen. I hear Lady Clarissa Marchant; thirteen years old married the Duke of Epping - a man in his sixties.'
Isa reddened.
'Disgusting, what a selfish old man. I hope Letitia does not suffer the same fate; as I said, she is still a child.'
With a shake of her head, the child still carrying baby fat pushed back a chestnut brown curl from her neck. 'A child I am not Isabella. Even now, I receive billet doux. Lord Samuel even told me he loves me
, and says I am exceedingly fair; he also sent me a poem written by Lord Byron. He wrote that he would wait for me to grow into a woman.'
The
countess cast a thunderous glance at her youngest daughter. 'What? Pray tell me, how old is Lord Samuel now?'
Her eyes the same violet colour as her mama's, flashed, 'He is nearly fourteen years Mama.
Nearly old enough to marry.' Isabella suppressed a giggle, whilst Venetia, her soon to be sister-in-law, lowered her eyes, almost choking on her venison.
The
countess, however, was not amused. 'Pray tell me when you received this billet doux, and by whose hand?'
'Mama it is quite chaste. His manservant delivered it to Mistress Elizabeth.'
'Hmm, the governess has not divulged this information; she will be duly reprimanded.'
'Oh please Mama, Mistress Elizabeth is strict enough as it is. Why even the other day she beat me for putting some paint and rouge on my face.'
'Quite right. However, this serious matter could well have been a rapacious rogue. Oh dear, it hardly bears thinking about. For all we know he could have abducted you and taken you to Gretna Green; forced you to marry him - ruined at fourteen.'
The
earl carried on eating, completely ignoring the dramatics of the countess, as he mopped up the bloody sauce.
Isabella grinned. 'Mama please - they are but children.'
Hmm - she must be untouched for her first season, and let us hope she chooses wisely not like her sister.' She glared at Isabella. 'Refusing some of the leading men of the
bon
ton
.'
Alex raised his eyebrows; the
countess did not approve of him, wishing Isabella married a Duke. She could still be spiteful at times.
Isabella replied with asperity. 'I cared not for any of them, honestly Mama they were scarcely out of their baby napkins, or they were middle-aged carrying a paunch. I remember you even considered the Duke of Hartley, in his dotage with scarce a tooth in his head and hobbling with the gout.'
'I did not - one has to adhere to the rules; he offered, and therefore, I had to be polite and consider him.'
'Mama you admonished me for two days. All I heard was the Duke held vast estates; the Duke had the best stables, the Duke
…. Need I say anymore?'
Undeterred, her mother said, 'What of the Duke of Eastwood?
A beau indeed, two and thirty years, handsome and in command of a regiment.'
Alexander bit his lip, trying not to smile; she talked of a rogue rake, with a string of mistresses and an even larger number of bastard children.'
Isabella stole a glance at Alex, trying not to giggle. Raising her head, she said, 'Well Alex offered in my second season.'
'Yes and still we have no marriage - no grandchildren. I do swear Alex; you really must marry. Your mama did tell me your estate needed an heir.
Lord Horatio Winton pushed his broccoli around the plate. 'Alex, I hear you are listed at Whites as ten to one, you will defer the marriage again. I wagered a few thousand on that. So don't listen to Mama.'
Isabella's hand shot out, pulling a lock of her brother's rich chestnut hair. 'You devil; you're so cruel Horatio - so bloody cruel.'
Scandalized, her mother spat, ‘Wash your mouth out young lady. We will have no swearing at this table. Honestly, I don't know what you girls are coming to - ill-mannered, disobedient - why you even refuse to wear your corsets.' Blushing at her indelicacy, she said, 'See what you made me say. I am over wrought I say - overwrought.'
His fiancée the Lady Venetia Lovegrove tapped his arm. 'Really Horatio I was not aware you were so unkind.'
Ignoring the countess, Isa said, 'Alex you can't let him do that, wager against our marriage?'
'I have no power over Whites' listings Isabella.'
This piece of information was the last straw. 'La, so I am the laughing stock at Whites, at the gaming clubs. Oh, the
ton
will have such fun with this, the jilted bride, not once, but four times. Well, we shall remedy that. And you will lose your money brother.' She scowled at her mother. 'We intend to marry within six days. Papa, you'll arrange it won't you?'
Her mother shrieked, waving her fan furiously, 'Dear God in heaven
spare me.' Earl peered at Isabella. 'Of course - of course; I will send a footman over to the vicarage this very evening. It shall be done my pet.'
The
countess threw her fan on the table, and stood glaring. 'My pet - my pet indeed. You always give in to her Archibald. Pray what of your wife. Have you thought of the scandal?'
'Scandal?'
What scandal?'
'Why they will think it is a marriage of convenience - that she is
… is increasing.'
'Nonsense my dear, I hear a few brides married in haste to go to the Peninsula War, and now are in Brussels - tis quite the social scene.'
'Why Horatio here may well take out Venetia.'
'He does not have a commission.'
The Earl spooned some horseradish sauce over the roast beef. 'But he will soon; I have thought the matter over very carefully and have purchased him a commission in the Seventh Hussars as an Ensign.'
'The
countess wrung her hands. 'Why didn't you tell me of this?'
'We have only just heard he has been accepted.'
The countess turned to Venetia. 'And pray what do you think of this?'
Tossing her blonde curls cut fashionably short, she smiled. 'I am delighted my
lady. It means Isabella, and I will meet out in Belgium.'
Isa grinned. 'Wonderful news Horatio'
'Any day after I sign the papers, I could be called to Brussels. I shall be travelling to London in the next few days.'
Isa leapt up and going to Venetia hugged her, kissing on her on the cheek. 'So I will not be alone after all.'
Beetling her fine brows, the countess growled, 'Does that mean another gunshot wedding?'
