Claiming the Chaperon's Heart (9 page)

* * *

Melia felt a flicker of guilt as she went upstairs to put off her bonnet before nuncheon. She had lied to Jane about her feelings and her intentions, allowing her to think that she was interested in a score of admirers who had paid her such pretty compliments at the ball, when in truth the only one that made her heart flutter was Adam.

He had pressed her hand to his lips in the garden, gazing ardently into her eyes as he told her that she was the loveliest girl he’d seen in England and he was rapidly falling under her spell.

‘I am so unworthy of you, my dear Miss Bellingham...’

‘No, no, do not say so,’ Melia had begged him. ‘You must call me Melia; everyone I like does...’

‘In private, perhaps,’ he’d said in a voice husky with passion. ‘I am Adam to you, and you are Melia in my heart—but I can never presume to hope for more than friendship, sweet lady. I have little to offer and, though Frant and I are to go into partnership in the matter of our racing stable, my estate is unable to support the wife I would wish for. In time, perhaps, I shall have my own houses in Ireland, London and perhaps Leicestershire for the hunting—but that may be some years away, and I could not ask any lady to wait for me...’

Melia’s heart had swelled with a mixture of love and grief. How noble he was in renouncing her because he could not afford to give her the things she deserved. The portion Lord Frant had given her no longer seemed enough, for though it increased her fortune to seven thousand pounds in all, it was not enough to buy her a husband who needed the means to support a wife and live in comfort in the way he described.

How could Papa have left his whole estate away from his daughters? Melia supposed it must have been worth some twenty thousand pounds or more—which meant she ought to have had ten thousand pounds, not the measly five that Lord Frant had granted her.

She stared at herself in the dressing mirror, her mouth pulled down in discontent. It was not Adam’s fault that his own father had wasted his inheritance to almost nothing. He’d told her that Lord Frant’s father had done much the same to him.

‘It is all right for Paul,’ he’d said and she’d seen his rueful look of regret. ‘He has the luck of the devil. In India we rescued a young prince from a pack of vengeful tribesmen from the hills—but it was he that received the gratitude and rewards from the Prince’s father. I received almost nothing...’

Melia had been given the impression that Adam had been the principle rescuer and Lord Frant had taken the credit, which had resulted in him becoming the owner of palaces and lands out there in India.

‘You should have spoken out,’ Melia had said, outraged on his behalf. ‘Lord Frant should share the rewards with you.’

‘He was the one who snatched the Prince from a burning building,’ Adam had said. ‘My men and I made it possible by fighting off the tribesmen, but of course the Prince called Frant his saviour. I did not wish to push myself forward—and the Maharaja sent wine, food and one hundred gold coins, which I shared out amongst my men.’

‘Yes, I do see it would be impossible for you to push your claim,’ Melia had said, her heart won by his selflessness in sharing the small reward he’d received with his men. ‘Yet I still think Lord Frant should have given you half of the rewards he received.’

‘I should not wish you to think ill of him,’ Adam had told her. ‘You must not speak of this to anyone, Melia—it was merely that I wished you to understand why I cannot offer marriage to any lady, even if it breaks my heart. I must earn my fortune by hard work and skill.’

Melia changed into an afternoon gown, for she was going out with Viscount Salisbury after luncheon. She was aware that she had once given a careless promise to him, but she’d never said that she loved him or that she would marry him, merely that she would wish to get to know him better before answering his question.

Melia did like both Jane and Will very much; they were her friends and she would not shame them or hurt them for the world—but she’d discovered a new and exciting world here in London and meant to make the most of her chances while she was here.

Her heart was given to Adam, but he was set against marriage until he could earn enough to keep his wife in style. Only if Melia could persuade her guardian to give her a larger portion might she be able to persuade him to think better of his noble sacrifice. A man who would not speak out when he was cheated of a fortune would not marry just for money—and yet she believed that he’d been telling her he loved her. If she had ten thousand, perhaps he would marry her...

* * *

Jane was about to change for the evening when she heard the rattle of carriage wheels outside the house; the sounds of postilions shouting and a loud rapping at the door made her throw on a silk wrap and hurry to the top of the stairs. Hearing a commotion in the hall and then the sound of a young woman’s voice, she gave a glad cry and looked down. Cousin Sarah had arrived some hours early and her arrival had thrown the servants into disarray.

‘Come up to me, Sarah,’ she called down. ‘I am changing and may not come down, but please do come up to me. You were expected tomorrow but your room is prepared and we shall have some tea in my sitting room while they carry up your bags.’

‘Jane...’ A tall girl with dark eyes and a pale complexion started up the stairs towards her. ‘I am sorry to throw your arrangements out, but I had the offer of a carriage part way and it brought me here some hours earlier than I’d expected.’

‘It doesn’t matter in the least,’ Jane said, meeting her with outstretched hands. They kissed cheeks warmly, Jane looking intently into her face. ‘You look pale, Sarah. I was so sorry when your dear mama passed away.’

‘It has been a terrible time,’ Sarah confessed, her voice catching. ‘My father left us with little to live on and poor Mama was living in fear of being turned from the house. I do believe it was that...’ She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘I am determined not to cry all over you, Jane. It was so good of you to offer me a home and saved me from...but that will keep for later. You are dressing for the evening, I think?’

‘Yes. Melia and I are engaged for an evening of music and supper, also perhaps a little dancing later. I do not wish to disappoint Melia, but I should not like to leave you alone, Sarah.’

‘You must not concern yourself,’ Sarah said and sighed. ‘To own the truth, a little light supper in my room and I shall be very well for this evening. Please, Jane, I should feel so awkward if I kept you here when all I wish for is to rest.’

‘Very well, I shall instruct my housekeeper to bring you your supper on a tray—and I will take you to your rooms, my dear cousin. Tomorrow we shall have a long talk and you may tell me all your news.’

‘Thank you for your kindness,’ Sarah said, and again there was a break in her voice. ‘I was near desperate when I wrote to you and for a while I did not think I could escape my fate...’

Jane looked at her enquiringly, but she shook her head. Realising that Sarah was indeed exhausted, Jane led the way to the large and pleasant chamber she’d had prepared for her.

‘Oh, what a lovely room—two rooms,’ Sarah said, realising that she had both bedchamber and sitting room of her own. ‘This is sheer luxury, Jane. I cannot thank you enough.’

‘We shall discuss my plans and yours tomorrow,’ Jane promised her, kissed her cheek and left her to the maids who had come up to attend to her unpacking.

After giving the housekeeper instructions for her cousin’s comfort, Jane left her and returned to her bedroom to finish changing. Had she not been entertaining Melia she might have cancelled her engagements for the evening, but she did not wish to disappoint the girl—and Sarah’s story would wait for the morning.

Chapter Seven

P
aul picked up the invitation from Lady Featherstone and read it once more. He thought it most likely that it would be an insipid affair and would normally have rejected it in favour of an evening playing cards with some friends at his club. However, Melia had told Adam that she and Jane would be guests of Lady Featherstone this evening, and that meant it would not be a complete waste of time—and yet was it too soon? He did not wish Jane to feel that she was being pursued, for he sensed that although she was intrigued and interested in the project he had invited her to oversee, her feelings towards him were, as yet, merely those of a casual acquaintance. She was quite clearly still grieving for her husband, even though she’d put off her blacks. Had he not been Melia’s guardian, he doubted that she would have obliged him in the matter of furnishing his house.

Paul looked at himself ruefully in the mirror. His natural impatience made him long to make her an offer of his heart, his name and his fortune, in that order, but he believed that she would become embarrassed and turn him down. Had he seen any sign of anything warmer than what he thought was the beginning of liking, he would have shown his feelings for it was not in his nature to be secretive.

Paul remembered the day he had snatched the young Prince Kumal from the building in which his captors had imprisoned him. When the preparations for an assault on their camp was noticed, one of them had set fire to the wooden hut and the youth’s terrified screams had caused Paul to rush straight to his rescue. The tribesmen had been caught by surprise but that did not prevent them from shooting at him as he rode up to the small building and dismounted, attacking the door with an axe until it gave. Rushing into the fire against the shouted orders to wait from the captain in charge of the soldiers that day, Paul had carried the now almost unconscious lad from the building, sustaining burns to his back and one of his legs. He’d covered the Prince and his own head with a blanket, thus preventing much of the harm that might have been done; his scars were hidden and he never spoke of them.

Prince Kumal had suffered only minor burns to his hands, incurred in trying to pull away burning wood from across the door before Paul’s arrival. He and his father had been overwhelmingly grateful, for his quick actions had undoubtedly saved the Prince’s life.

‘You must also thank the soldiers who helped drive off the tribesmen,’ Paul told the grateful father. ‘I could not have done it alone.’

‘I have been told it was your quick thinking that saved my son. Your soldiers and their captain were interested only in subduing the tribesmen. It was you who insisted they go in at once—and indeed they could only follow once you led the way. Kumal told me that he thought he would die until you started hacking down the door. He heard no shots until after you plunged in to rescue him.’

There had been none for Adam had been waiting to assess how many rebels there were before committing to the attack. He and his men had been sent to subdue the tribesmen, who had been causing a deal of trouble in the area, but Paul’s reason for being one of the party was the suspicion that it was these particular renegades who had kidnapped the young Prince.

He knew that Adam and his men had received two thousand gold pieces as the Maharaja’s reward for helping to save his son. His reward had been more personal: a pink-walled palace, lands—and the offer of a half-royal bride who would come with a rich dowry, besides many other gifts. His son had offered one of his own concubines for Paul’s pleasure, but the Maharaja had offered him a prestigious wedding that would have brought both power and wealth.

‘The Princess Helena’s daughter is beautiful and carries the blood of my uncle,’ the Maharaja said, smiling on him. ‘It would honour her to become your wife—and it would honour us if you would make your home amongst us and share our lands.’

He had been tempted for a moment or two because Annamarie was very lovely, and any man might be happy to live like a prince. Paul’s fortune had come through his own endeavours, but the lands and palace he’d been given were worth what many would think a small fortune in themselves—and Annamarie had a rich dowry settled on her by her father before he died. Adam had thought Paul a fool to turn down the offer and he’d had to be very careful for he did not wish to give offence, either to the Maharaja or Annamarie herself.

Perhaps if that letter from his distant cousin’s lawyers had not arrived when it did he might have stayed and taken Annamarie as his wife—and what a terrible mistake that would have been. The proud beauty would soon have guessed that he did not love her, and she would not have been happy at being part of a bargain made by her uncle. She no longer lived in the palace and thought herself a free agent, bound to do only her mother’s bidding.

Pushing all thought of India and the past from his mind, Paul finished his preparations for the evening. He was fortunate that his face had not been scarred as his back was, and one of his legs. He’d never been as handsome as Adam, but sometimes he wondered if any woman would put up with the scarring on his back...yet a nightshirt would cover it and the old scars never pained him now.

It was strange but he’d never thought he would ever fall in love—so deeply in love that nothing else mattered—but one look at Jane, one smile from those lovely eyes, and he could think of nothing else. He had for one fleeting moment considered wedding his ward, but that thought had been forgotten the moment he’d looked into Jane’s eyes.

Deciding that he was ready, Paul picked up his hat, cloak and cane. Adam had decided that he would prefer an evening of cards amongst his friends and excused himself.

‘You do not need me,’ he’d told Paul, an odd look in his eyes. ‘I shall visit a club I’ve been told of with some new acquaintances.’

Paul had wanted to warn him about trusting new friends and new gambling establishments, but the advice might have caused offence and would not have been heeded.

In India they had been friends, though not often in each other’s company since Adam was a part of the Army that protected the Company and the district from various warring tribes. On the ship coming over, Paul’s illness had formed a bond between them and he had sincerely wished that Adam was his brother—but, since then, Adam’s behaviour had planted a small seed of doubt in his mind.

Paul was not a gambler. He was willing to play a hand or two with friends at his club for reasonable stakes and usually rose with either a small loss or an equally small gain. However, he believed that Adam was playing for high stakes and hoping to win enough to repair his fortunes. Adam’s father had been a reckless gambler, which was why he’d lost most of his estate, and it seemed that it was in the blood. Paul feared for his friend because of it, but he could not interfere.

His lawyers were looking into Adam’s affairs and the outcome of that might be the only way that this madness could be brought to a close. If Adam discovered that after all there was a reasonable sum left from his father’s estate, perhaps he would be happy to go off to Ireland as they’d planned and put aside this reckless gambling.

Sighing, Paul put his friend’s problems from his mind. The fever he’d suffered on the ship had dragged him down but he was at last feeling more like himself again. He would have to visit the country to sort out his various estates soon—and he wanted to visit Newmarket for the races. If he saw any young horses he liked the look of he would purchase them at Tattersalls. Perhaps if he could carry Adam off with him to Ireland, he might settle down and forget his foolish dreams of winning back all that his father had lost...

* * *

Jane was conscious of a feeling of pleasure when she saw that Lord Frant had come that evening. It was to be a simple evening of a little music and some cards for those who wished for it. Many of the gentlemen had accompanied wives, daughters and young cousins, and would disappear into the card room as soon as the music began. However, when she found a seat for herself and Melia where they might sit and listen but not be too close, it was not long before Lord Frant came to stand near them.

‘Good evening, Melia, Lady March,’ Paul said. ‘I believe Madame Meloria is a fine soloist and we are in for a treat this evening.’

‘Yes, so I have heard,’ Jane said and smiled at him. ‘Are you comfortable there? I believe there is a chair just behind that you might fetch to sit beside us if you wished.’

‘Yes, I see it,’ Paul said and moved away to pick up the single chair and place it next to Jane as she sat on the small sofa beside Melia. ‘That will be more comfortable if the music continues for a while.’

Melia leaned forward in her seat. ‘Is Viscount Hargreaves not with you this evening, sir?’

‘No. I believe he had another appointment,’ Paul said and frowned.

‘Is something wrong?’ Jane asked but he shook his head and assured her that all was well.

They spent a very pleasant evening listening to the music, taking supper together and talking. Melia had seen some friends and was carried off by one young lady to join her and her brother and his friends in a light-hearted and very noisy and amusing card game. No money was wagered by the young people but there was a great deal of rivalry and Melia’s laughter was heard on several occasions.

‘Your brother did not accompany you this evening?’ Paul asked towards the end. ‘I had thought he might have done so.’

‘It was his intention, I believe, but Mama summoned him to attend her to the theatre. It seems the duke was indisposed and suggested that Will took her instead, which of course he was delighted to do. We are both very fond of her.’

‘Yes, I dare say you are,’ Paul said and laughed softly. ‘I imagine not many can resist the duchess’s charm?’

‘Oh, it has not always been so,’ Jane assured him. ‘Mama was very young when her father arranged the marriage to my father and it was not a happy one. Papa was too critical for poor Mama, but Porky adores her. I do believe he has remained faithful all his life.’

Paul looked thoughtful. ‘Marriage should always be for love or at the very least where liking and respect are sufficient. For myself, nothing but love would content me. If I were to ask a lady to be my wife she would know that I should never look elsewhere and make it my purpose in life to see that she was happy.’

‘Yes, I believe that you would,’ Jane said, her interest caught. ‘For myself, I could never marry unless I loved. I was very much in love when I married Harry March.’

‘Yes, I believe your husband was a brilliant soldier. You were unlucky to have lost him so soon, ma’am.’ His eyes dwelled on her with a warm sympathy that made Jane’s heart catch, for in that moment she felt that she could find comfort against his broad shoulder.

‘Yes, it was ill luck—but Harry was never one to sit at the rear and send his men forward. He led the charge and was shot down...’ Jane’s throat caught and for a moment she felt close to tears, but held them back. ‘I was devastated when they told me. I have begun to accept and move forward—but it is the only source of discord between myself and Mama. She cannot see why I say I shall not marry again...’

‘You think it would not be possible to find such happiness again?’

‘I do not think I could settle for second best,’ Jane admitted candidly. ‘Only if I felt another person necessary to my very life would I think of taking another husband.’

‘I can only say that the man you chose would be fortunate—and since I think it a shame you should live alone I must hope you find him one day.’ Something in his words touched her in a way that other expressions of sympathy had not and she almost wished that he would put his arms about her and hold her safe.

‘I shall not be alone,’ Jane said with her sweet smile that, unknown to her, clutched at his heart. ‘My cousin Sarah has come up to town to bear me company. When Melia’s visit is done I may think of taking a house in Bath. If my brother were to marry I could not continue as his hostess because it would be unfair to his wife—whoever she might be.’

‘Yes, I see...’ His expression did not change, but Jane knew that he was thinking about what she’d told him. ‘Would I be wrong in thinking that your brother still has hopes of her?’

Jane glanced towards the group of young people and sighed. ‘I believe he thought she returned his feelings, but now he is not sure. She is young and pretty and it is only right that she should have her chance to shine in Society—and to make her choice. I do not wish for Will to be unhappy, but I would not have Melia feel constrained to marry where her heart did not follow.’

‘You think her head has been turned by gentlemen paying her compliments—or by one gentleman in particular?’

‘It is not easy to be certain,’ Jane admitted. ‘Melia likes flattery and attention—who does not? She seems happy this evening, and yet I believe she was disappointed that Viscount Hargreaves did not come.’

‘Adam is not truly in a position to take a wife—unless she has a fortune and is willing to bestow it on him. Melia’s portion would not be enough for him, Jane. I think he would marry only if he were to find an heiress—or a rich widow, you see. You might hint at his lack of real fortune if you think it would save her pain. He is not penniless; I would not have you think that—but not rich enough to support the lifestyle he enjoys and a wife and family.’

‘Yes, I had supposed something of the sort,’ Jane said. ‘However, I think it unwise to try and influence her. Melia must decide for herself what she wants of life.’

‘You are very wise,’ he said and once again that thoughtful look was in his eyes. ‘It is seldom wise to meddle in the lives of our friends, unless they ask us—and even then too often they will not thank us for it...’

‘I fear you are right,’ Jane said. She rose to her feet and offered her hand. ‘It has been a most pleasant evening and I am reluctant to leave, but I think I ought. I have neglected Sarah long enough and must go home and enquire how she is.’

‘Ah yes.’ He glanced at Melia. ‘My ward will not take kindly to being asked to leave, I think. She is still intent on her game—and winning, by the sound of it.’