Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (7 page)

“Hey, damn you!” Lord Randal exclaimed. “Stop it, Marius. I was only funning. It would be criminal to spill this cognac, especially on my beautiful coat.”

“I’ll spill your blood on your beautiful coat if you start trouble. Besides, even your ingenuity couldn’t paint David as more scandalous than yourself. Lady Sandiford would have palpitations at seeing you in company with her little nun.”

“Don’t you think we should rescue David from such a connection? I hear she’s a gorgon.”

“I am sure the gold will be some compensation. Forget it. Just because I count the girl a dowdy bore, don’t think I’ll support you in mischief.”

“A dowdy bore?” Lord Randal said quizzically. “Hardly. She’s quite beautiful, and the Sandiford fortune will ensure she’s soon dressed to equal the finest. I doubt I would find her boring.”

“A bore,” asserted his friend.

“You think all women are bores. Ah, David,” he exclaimed as the door opened. “Come and sample this cognac. Really fine. Do you not agree that Marius simply dislikes women and cannot be trusted in any statement he makes about them?”

Lord Wraybourne raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think ‘dis like’ would describe his attitude to Julia Devine last time I saw them together.”

Lord Randal shouted with laughter. “True indeed. Perhaps I should say he dislikes
ladies.
”

“Not at all,” responded Sir Marius equably. “I have an aunt of whom I am tolerably fond, and I have enjoyed the company of a number of other
married
ladies. Most
unmarried
ladies, however, desire only to rectify that state.”

“Ah,” said Lord Wraybourne as he inhaled the aroma of the brandy. “Now I see the topic. You are talking of Jane Sandiford.” His tone was perfectly amiable, but there was something in his lazy eyes which warned them not to overstep the bounds.

“You know my views,” said Sir Marius, undeterred. “Marriage is for fools. You have two brothers. Let them be the victims.”

“Frederick could be carried away at any moment by a Frenchman’s bullet, and Mortimer is currently adhering to an extreme form of High Anglicanism which urges celibacy.”

“Good God!”

“And actually,” continued his lordship, “I have no particular objection to the married state.”

“Tell me,” said Lord Randal eagerly. “How did you find her, and did you encounter any other similar specimens in your search?”

Lord Wraybourne delayed his reply to savour a mouthful of the cognac. “Her parents found me, or rather her mother did,” he said at last. “Sir Jeffrey is a cipher. She sent the word out among her friends and asked for suggestions of eligible men. Goodness knows what qualities she specified, but my godmother, Lady Peebles, was most insistent that I visit and look the girl over.”

He shrugged. “I had decided to choose a bride rather than wait for Cupid’s arrow which seems slow to find a target in my breast so I took the bait. I didn’t seriously think I would offer for her,” he reminisced. “I think she brought out the gallantry in me, like a princess in a tower awaiting a rescuer.”

Sir Marius stared gloomily into his glass, but Lord Randal responded with laughter, “Indeed. And the fact that she’s rich and beautiful had nothing to do with it?”

“Princesses are always rich and beautiful,” replied Lord Wraybourne dryly.

“I suspect she’s rather clever too. I suppose that didn’t weigh with you either?”

“A bonus, I admit. She has a fine wit, and as she begins to be more comfortable with strangers I anticipate much pleasure in her company.”

Lord Randal quirked an eyebrow at this and looked to make a comment but thought better of it. Instead he said, “But her clothes! Her mother dresses her like an impoverished puritan, David. It’s a sad waste. You should do something about it.”

“I hardly think my interference would be welcome at this point,” remarked Lord Wraybourne. “Time enough to arrange her clothing when we’re wed.”

“Or disarrange it,” chortled Lord Randal irrepressibly, drawing groans from both his friends. “At any rate try to persuade her not to cut her hair. You saw how impressed she was by Sophie’s crop.”

“Yes,” said Lord Wraybourne, much struck. “And hair takes so long to grow.”

Lord Randal sighed, a beatific smile on his beautiful face. “Imagine her naked with that mass of ebony hair swirling around her.”

“I would really rather you didn’t,” said Lord Wraybourne gently.

“What? Oh . . . I suppose not. But it will be deuced hard.” He smiled sensuously. “To a connoisseur, such thoughts are inescapable.”

“You may enjoy your
thoughts
all you wish,” was the amiable response. “In fact, to show how much I trust you, I will ask you to spend a little time introducing my bride to the art of flirtation. I must be losing my touch. She obviously regards me with trepidation. I find this marriage business not as simple as I expected.” He ignored a snort from Sir Marius. “She liked the look of you though, Randal, so do the pretty, and then maybe she won’t swoon every time I try to kiss her hand.”

Lord Randal agreed enthusiastically to this proposal, but Lord Wraybourne was to endure a fair amount of good-natured teasing before the gentlemen retired that night.

J
ANE SUFFERED A moment of confusion at waking the next morning in a strange bed. This was followed by a surge of excitement, however. With the sunshine of a new day and adventure before her, her fears faded. The idea of seeing Lord Wraybourne again—exchanging teasing words, feeling his lips upon her fingers—was a large part of that excitement, with its strange mingling of wariness and anticipation.

She tugged on the bellpull, impatient to begin the day. Prudence, full of news from the servants’ hall, arrived with her washing water. Though Jane knew her mother would not approve of encouraging servants to gossip, she did not stop the prattle. After all, this was as much an adventure for Prudence as it was for herself.

“. . . ten garden staff and that doesn’t include those at the Home Farm, Miss Jane. There’s a sewing woman comes in but there won’t be time for her to do much for you so I trimmed your fawn cambric last night.”

She produced the gown, which Jane admired with genuine pleasure.

“Prudence, you are a marvel!”

The plain high-necked gown was greatly improved by rows of ruched lace around the collar and hem. Prudence had also added false buttons and braid to give the bodice the look of a jacket.

“I had help from some of the other maids, Miss. They were quite challenged, and I gather Lord Wraybourne is a great favorite here so they were very pleased to help you.”

“Prudence, I am truly grateful. When we are in Town and I have my new clothes, you shall have all these for yourself and so benefit from your work.”

The maid turned bright pink with excitement. “Lordy, Miss. I’ll be as fine as you like! Thank you.”

“Thank
you,
Prudence.” Jane added with a grin, “After all, I am only ensuring that you will continue your wonderful work. We are here for two more days and so I will require a number of other gowns.”

Jane felt pleasantly comfortable with her appearance as she entered the light and sunny breakfast room. She couldn’t help being disappointed to find only Mrs. Danvers and Lady Sophie at the table. The young men had apparently eaten earlier and gone off on some sporting enterprise. The Harrovings and her father had chosen to break their fast in their chambers.

“Good morning, Jane,” declared Lady Sophie gaily as Jane allowed the maid behind the chafing dishes to give her eggs and ham. “I do hope I am permitted to call you Jane for I consider us sisters, and I must be Sophie to you. It is a glorious day. I am pondering the relative charms of fishing, archery, and sketching. What activity would please you best?”

“I have never attempted fishing or archery,” said Jane as she seated herself, “so I think I must content myself with my easel.”

“But that will mean sitting still for so long, something I am quite unable to do! Besides, I am sure David would be delighted to instruct you in the art of angling and even more charmed to teach you how to draw a bow.” This was said with a wicked glance at Phoebe Danvers, who was apparently enthralled by the kidneys on her plate.

“How do you intend to pass your day, Mrs. Danvers?” the girl pursued, forcing the older woman to pay her some attention.

“I have not considered, Lady Sophie. I will wait, I think, until Maria rises and consult with her. I may attempt a wa tercolor sketch of the Chinese bridge.”

“What is a Chinese bridge?” asked Jane.

Sophie bounced. “Of course! You haven’t seen the grounds. The first thing we must do is to explore. The landscaping here is famous. There is a Chinese garden with a pagoda and an Italian garden with statues which will make you stare.”

She continued to chatter as Jane finished her breakfast, then dragged her away, pulling a naughty face at Phoebe Danvers’ back as they left.

“I cannot abide that woman,” she declared as soon as the door was closed. “She has such a high opinion of herself and is forever sneering at people. I thought at one time that David might marry her and was quite cast down.”

“She is a widow, then. She cannot be very old.”

Jane felt a momentary alarm that Mrs. Danvers was free, but that was swiftly followed by satisfaction. The older lady had been available for marriage had Lord Wraybourne wished it. Then Jane realized that the widow was doubtless not rich enough, and despondency settled upon her once more. She forced herself to pay attention to her companion.

“Oh yes,” Lady Sophie was saying. “Quite thirty, I assure you. She has been a widow for three or four years. Her husband was ancient, I believe, but he left her money so perhaps it was worth it.”

How much money, Jane wanted to ask.

“But let us not talk of her,” Sophie went on. “Shall we send for shawls? There is a breeze.”

Jane put aside questions about the widow to consider a new problem. She was not quite sure what was expected of her during this visit. She knew she must first see her father off on his return journey but beyond that she had no guide. Lady Sophie seemed to enjoy more license than Jane had ever imagined possible, and she did not yet have the nerve to emulate her.

Who was she to ask for advice? Lady Harroving? She did not feel at ease with her. Lord Wraybourne? She had no wish to appear the fool before him. Jane explained a little of her quandary.

“Of course you must attend your father,” agreed Sophie and dispatched the footman to find out Sir Jeffrey’s plans. “Beyond that you must please yourself. Maria will expect us to find our own entertainment and here in the country there are few rules. It is what makes ruralizing supportable.”

The footman returned to say that Sir Jeffrey’s carriage was called for and he expected to leave very soon. Jane went to the coach entrance to bid him farewell and found her father in a bleak mood. Travelling did not agree with him.

“This is a frivolous household,” he said sternly. “The indulgence, the waste! Take care not to be corrupted by this style of life, Jane.” He fixed stern eyes on her gown. “Where had you that gown, Jane?”

She caught her breath in horror. She suddenly realized there was a very real danger of being pushed in the coach and dragged back to Carne.

“It is just an old one, Father,” she said hurriedly. “My maid put a little braid on it so I wouldn’t look out of the ordinary. You wouldn’t wish me to look
peculiar
would you, Father?”

He shook his head, obviously unsure of what to do. “It is all most strange,” he sighed at last. “This whole business is strange. A simple, upright man of our parts would have done as well, I think.”

He gave her a brief kiss and entered his coach, still frowning but happy at least to be headed back to his orderly and predictable life.

 

It was unfortunate that all Jane could wear for her walk with Sophie was a plain snuff-brown spencer and matching close-bonnet with no trimmings. However, given the recent close escape, Jane was grateful to be still present in The Middlehouse at all. Her father’s words had taken effect, nonetheless, and she determined not to give herself totally to vanity. This resolve soon weakened at the sight of Sophie by the sundial, pacing up and down, causing the golden tassels visible at the ankles of her boots to swirl. She had draped an enormous paisley shawl about her shoulders and wore a dashing high-poke bonnet upon her head.

“What an age you have been, Jane! I am sure it is very rude of me,” she continued, “but I must say that your clothes are the most dismal I have ever seen.”

Jane was unoffended. “Are they not. But I have a whole new wardrobe waiting for me in London.”

“Chosen by whom?” asked Sophie dubiously, creating horrible visions in Jane’s head. She had been anticipating clothes like Sophie’s but that would not be so. What
had
her mother ordered for her?

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sophie sympathetically. “Maria and I will fix it, even if we have to order a whole new wardrobe. Your parents must have given Maria
carte blanche.
”

“We couldn’t do that,” Jane protested.

“Of course we can. Maria will never allow you to come out under her aegis looking a dowd.” She linked arms with Jane and led her down to the French knot garden below.

 

As they passed through the formal gardens and the wilderness Jane learned a great deal about the life of a rich aristocrat at The Bath School for Young Ladies and was amazed. Sophie, in turn, was horrified to learn something of the life of a rich aristocrat who had been educated in a rigidly formal country house.

“It will all be different now,” she assured Jane. “To be
out
! It will be delightful not to have people looking askance at me if I dance or converse with a gentleman. And, of course, the gentlemen will be forced to take me seriously at last. There is nothing worse than to be a schoolgirl.”