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Authors: Anne Herries

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BOOK: Regency Mischief
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‘I am past my dancing days,’ Aunt Beth protested when Lottie suggested she might care to indulge once or twice.

She saw Rothsay escort Henrietta from the room and
knew that his godmother would have left the ball earlier than most because she could not stand late hours.

 

However, he had not returned within half an hour, and the lady who had flirted with him so wickedly was also missing.

Lottie felt her throat tighten and her smile became a little forced. Surely Rothsay would not have invited his mistress to his engagement ball? It would be a terrible insult, for everyone would know and pity her.

No, no, she would not deign to think such things. He was no doubt taking the chance of a cigar in the fresh air or perhaps talking with his godmother.

 

He returned shortly before the guests began to take their leave and joined her as she said goodbye to them. Most would be returning in a few days for the wedding, some were staying and simply went off to their rooms. When everyone had gone, Rothsay poured himself a glass of brandy from one of the decanters set out on a sideboard.

‘Well, Lottie, I think we may say it was successful, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, I am sure of it,’ she replied. ‘I am glad you were satisfied with the arrangements, Rothsay. If you will excuse me, I shall go up now. I am a little tired. Goodnight.’

She left him without another glance. There was a pain in her chest, which she found difficult to bear. The urge to weep was very close, because she could only conclude that Rothsay had been gone so long because he had slipped away to snatch a little time with his mistress.

Once alone, Lottie allowed Rose to unhook her gown at the back and then sent her off to bed, after thanking her for sitting up so late.

‘I can manage now, Rose. Thank you so much for looking after me. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, miss. I hope as everything went well?’

‘Yes, it was all delightful. I shall come to the servants’ hall tomorrow to thank everyone. At the moment all I want to do is sleep.’

All she really wanted to do was to sleep. Her first rush of emotion resulted in hot bitter tears, but after a while she wiped them away. She was being so foolish. Rothsay did not wish for a clinging bride. He wanted a sensible woman who accepted the fact of his mistress. She could not fault his manner of late. He was polite, considerate, but uninterested in more than a comfortable arrangement.

She was the fool. She was the one who had gone into this with her eyes open. He had kept his part of the bargain in full and she must do the same. Many gentlemen kept mistresses and their wives turned a blind eye. She must do the same—but she had not expected it to hurt as much as it did.

For a moment she was overcome with anger and an urgent desire to weep and rage, but she conquered her feelings.

She must think of all the things that would bring her contentment and make her life worthwhile.

As Lady Rothsay she could do a great deal of good. Rothsay admitted that he had neglected the things that were so necessary for the well being of his tenants. She could repair much of that neglect. Her marriage would
be good for her family. Aunt Beth was assured of a home here or in Bath when Lottie chose to visit, since a house there was one of Rothsay’s wedding gifts. He had been extraordinarily generous, far more so than she could have expected after the way the business began.

She could not withdraw. She did not wish to withdraw. She had experienced a moment of weakness, but she would conquer it. In the morning, she would become the calm controlled woman the world saw and these needs and longings inside her would be banished to a distant part of her mind.

 

Nicolas smoked a last cigar in the gardens. He frowned as he wondered what lay behind the withdrawal he had sensed in Lottie. During their first dance, he had felt her happiness and the closeness between them, and had wished that he could whisk her off somewhere to be thoroughly kissed. However, she had seemed changed when they bid their guests goodnight. He wondered what had happened in his absence. Had she heard something that upset her?

After escorting Henrietta to her room, because she was too tired to remain longer, he had been called to attend to some business he would rather not have been troubled with on such a night.

His mouth tightened to a thin line. At the court sessions earlier that day, he had discovered that he was not down to try Sam Blake, but another set of rogues altogether. They were accused of murder and, since they had been caught in the act, the sentencing was easy. He had ordered them to be hung, but their sentences could be exchanged for transportation as a bond servant for
seven years should they choose. Men invariably chose the latter and some of his fellow magistrates considered he had been too easy on the rogues.

It was only after the trial, which had taken some hours because he had listened to all the evidence, that he had learned Bertie Fisher had sat on the poaching case. He had sentenced Sam Blake to three years in the local prison, which was, in Nicolas’s opinion, far too severe. He had remonstrated with Bertie afterwards, but his neighbour was adamant that poaching needed to be stamped on.

It was, of course, a serious crime, because many violent individuals became involved in the business, which was often linked to other more serious crimes. However, Nicolas had found himself wishing that he had let the man off with a warning in the first place. Especially in the light of what had happened this evening.

He had been given the news that three men had broken free when being taken back to the prison. Two of them were the murderers, who were to be transported—and the third was Sam Blake.

‘The damned fool!’ Nicolas had been frustrated to learn of Blake’s escape. ‘Had he accepted his sentence I might have been able to have it cut in a few months. Now he will be a wanted man and may be shot on sight—and he may well hang if he is taken.’

The news had unsettled Nicolas, making him disinclined to return to the dancing. He had, however, rejoined Lottie to say goodnight to his guests.

The point was—was her new mood down to what she had heard or was she merely cross with him for deserting her?

He threw the cigar into the shrubbery and went in, unaware that he had been watched for some minutes from the shadows.

 

Lottie rose a little after her usual time at nine o’clock. She washed in the water Rose had brought her and went down to the breakfast room. She was feeling rested and perfectly calm, her feelings under control. She did not know for certain that Nicolas had been with his mistress the previous evening. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her conclusions and ought to give Rothsay more credit, for he was a gentleman and such behaviour would not have been expected of a true gentleman. She had allowed her jealousy to mislead her.

A few of the men were already in the breakfast room but there was no sign of the ladies—and she was told Rothsay had been in an hour before her.

‘You are an early riser, m’dear,’ Uncle Freddie said and smiled at her approvingly.

‘It has always been my habit,’ she said. ‘I do not much care for breakfast in bed, and I like to walk while the dew is still upon the grass.’

‘If you go walking this morning, you should take a groom or your maid with you,’ Uncle Freddie said with a frown. ‘I hear there are some dangerous men in the area. I doubt they will come on to the estate, for Rothsay’s keepers are armed and alert, but if you go to the village you should be careful.’

‘I do not plan to walk this morning. There is bound to be a great deal of food left from last night, you know. I would not have it wasted. I intend to visit the kitchens
after I have eaten and arrange for baskets of food to be taken to our tenants and the poor of the village.’

‘That’s the ticket. Don’t approve of waste meself. We always send the food to the local orphanage, though I’m not sure the children see much of it. I dare say the governors take the best for themselves. Not much we can do about it.’

‘Oh, I think one ought to try to improve things where one can,’ Lottie said. ‘At home I sometimes visited the workhouse. I think I was able to ease the condition of the poor by being elected to the board to see that the improvements I suggested were carried through. As Rothsay’s wife I shall be able to do more.’

‘Yes, you will if you care to,’ he agreed. ‘But all work and no play—you know the saying, m’dear. You must have some fun before you settle into the life here. Rothsay will want you to entertain for him in London, I dare say.’

Lottie wondered if that were true. She did not think it but would not tell his uncle. Instead, she chatted to him about the wedding and enquired what he wished to do with himself all day.

‘Might take you for a drive this afternoon if you have time for it, m’dear. I was accounted a whip in me young days.’

‘Would you drive me about the estate? I have never been much further than the lake or the park. I should like to see the village and some of the farms.’

‘Delighted,’ Uncle Freddie said, looking pleased with the idea. ‘Rothsay should have done it at the start, but he is an odd fellow at times. I dare say he will wake up to his responsibilities once you are married.’

Uncle Freddie was a good trencherman and Lottie left him to the enjoyment of his breakfast, having partaken of a cup of tea and a buttered roll with honey herself.

She visited the kitchens and discussed what Cook felt could be spared from her larder.

‘Most of the fancy stuff is finished, Miss Stanton, but there is quite a bit of ham and roast meat left over. It won’t keep more than a day or two at most in this weather. We shall need some of it here, but I’ll be cooking fresh this evening and a lot will waste if last night’s spread isn’t sent out. I had it in mind to send a bit to the tenants, but now that you’ve taken the trouble to consult me I shall send the meat pies and pasties to the village hall. There’s a fête today for the children, miss, and they will find it useful.’

‘That is excellent, Mrs Bent. In future you have my permission to send what is not needed here for the poor folk. We shall see if the children can be given a few treats during the year—perhaps a tea or supper at the village hall?’

‘The marquis’s mother used to hold a children’s party here once a year, miss. I was wondering whether you might wish to start the tradition again?’

‘That is an excellent idea,’ Lottie said. ‘I am glad you mentioned it to me. I should like to know of anything that I can do to help make our people happy, Mrs Bent. Now I must go, for we have guests and I ought to see if they have all they want.’

Lottie walked from the room. Mrs Bent nodded her approval as the housekeeper entered.

‘She will do for us, Mrs Mann. The marquis’s fiancée is a real lady if you ask me.’

‘Yes, she is,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘It was a little odd that her father was not here for the ball. We must hope that he turns up for the wedding.’

‘Yes, that is a bit strange,’ Mrs Bent said, ‘but I dare say there is a reason for it.’

 

Unaware of the speculation in the servants’ hall, Lottie carried on being a charming hostess for the rest of the morning. She did venture out into the garden for a stroll amongst the shrubbery when some of the ladies came down to join her, but did not venture further than the immediate gardens.

Catching sight of one of the keepers, Lottie remembered Uncle Freddie’s warning and wondered just who the dangerous men were. She could not think that Sam Blake was one of them, for he had not seemed particularly violent to her—just a rather weak man who had let life push him down.

Before nuncheon, she wrote a note to Lily and asked her to call when she was feeling better and sent Rose with a basket of sweetmeats for the children.

 

In the afternoon, she went driving with Uncle Freddie. She was impressed with the fertile fields and the fat stock grazing in their meadows. Everywhere they went, men took off their hats to her and bowed their heads respectfully. One or two women came to the doors of their cottages and called out good wishes for her wedding—and she smiled to see a group of children playing happily around the maypole that had been set up on the village green with some other amusements.

However, on the way home, they passed a huddle of
very poor cottages that looked in bad repair. Lottie asked Uncle Freddie to stop, which he did reluctantly.

‘You don’t want to look there, Lottie. That’s the Hollow. All the scum of the neighbourhood live there. Rothsay should pull it down. It is a blot on the landscape.’

Leaning over to look, Lottie caught an unpleasant smell, which, she guessed, came from an open ditch that ran through the middle of the cottages. She could see that the people here did not wave or smile, but looked at her with sullen indifference. One man came out to stare at them in a way that made Lottie shiver. He was tall and heavily built, but she saw the resemblance to Sam Blake instantly and realised it must be his cousin Dickon. His look was one of such malevolence that she sat back in her seat.

‘I wouldn’t come this way again if I were you,’ Uncle Freddie said as he whipped up his horses. ‘These people are not like the villagers. They resent interference and do nothing to help themselves.’

‘It must be very unhealthy to live in such a place,’ Lottie replied thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps Rothsay would consider putting in a drain for that ditch and at least doing some repairs.’

‘He did make some such suggestion once, but it was met with hostility. There are some folk you simply cannot help in this world, Lottie m’dear. Save your efforts for those that appreciate it.’

Lottie murmured something appropriate. She would like to see improvements made to the Hollow but again it was something that might annoy Rothsay and would be best left until after the wedding.

There were only a few days to go now. All she had to do was make the best of things and see her part of the bargain through. No doubt Rothsay would soon take himself off back to London and she would be able to do small things herself. He surely could not object if she spent her own allowance on improving things for the tenants of the Hollow just a little?

BOOK: Regency Mischief
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