Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire (12 page)

‘My design,’ she said. ‘But still immature, as you see.’

T
he needs of Miss Caterina Chester were of an immediate kind upon which good breeding and example from her elders would have not the slightest effect, and when she might have benefited from her aunt’s advice, that dear lady was talking privately with Lord Elyot.

Lord Rayne’s professed enthusiasm for the music of Mr Haydn appeared to have deserted him and, despite Caterina’s invitation to sit close to her, he neither helped her to interpret the score nor did he take advantage of their closeness, which Caterina thought a great waste. There was not even a hand-touching. Not even a long gaze into her eyes. Nothing except a murmured enquiry about her aunt’s horses.

In Buxton, she and her sister had commanded a faithful following of male and female friends who had taken the art of flirting just a little way beyond the boundaries proscribed by their governess. But Lord Rayne was in a class all his own—a man, the very first attractive man who had shown her some interest, and she was falling more deeply in love with him
each day. If she was not allowed to show it, how would he ever know? Was she supposed to wait for ever?

‘Will you tell me something, Lord Rayne?’ she said. ‘Without thinking me too presumptuous?’

‘Probably, my dear Miss Chester,’ he drawled, stifling a yawn.

‘Probably what? You’ll think I’m being presumptuous?’

‘Er … oh, no. Of course not. What is it?’

‘Then may I ask you your age?’

‘That’s easy enough. Twenty-four. Why?’

‘Seven years older than me. That’s quite a lot.’ Caterina sighed, gathered the music sheets together and took them over to the table. ‘So am I the youngest of your lady friends?’ She glanced down to appreciate the smooth curves inside the white muslin, which could hardly have failed to impress him.

‘Oh, by far,’ he said, knowing exactly where this was leading.

‘And am I …? But, no, that’s unfair, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes. I was about to ask if I’m the prettiest, but you would be bound to say yes out of politeness.’

‘No, I assure you I wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t what?’

‘Say yes out of politeness.’

‘Oh. Then what
would
you say?’ She turned to stare at him, feeling that her innocent enquiries had suddenly turned into a challenge.

‘I would say, Miss Chester, that you were angling for compliments, and that I never compare my lady friends with each other for their delight. Bad form, you know.’

‘But I was not angling for compliments. I simply wanted to know what kind of lady attracts you. I’m sure you must have known dozens.’

Lord Rayne strolled over to the window, wondering how long his brother would take to win the prickly widow to his side. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Dozens.’ It was some time before he noticed that the questions had stopped. ‘Well … er … not exactly
dozens
, but a fair few, anyway. Look,’ he said, realising that something was going amiss, ‘shall we go down into the garden? Is that a summer house over there?’

It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as Caterina’s face softened into a flirtatious smile with a well-rehearsed nibble at her bottom lip.

‘Yes,’ she said, suddenly demure again. ‘I’ll show it to you, shall I?’

Summoning all his past experiences of summer houses, Lord Rayne wondered whether she would employ the squeeze-through-the-door technique, the cobweb-in-the-hair, or the it’s-quite-cold-in-here method. As it turned out, she tried the one where the top of her sleeve gets caught on something, but he was saved from the predictable consequences of that by the timely arrival of his brother and Lady Chester, who appeared to be gently arguing. Then, after a summary of the view across Richmond, they were off again, the men to their horses and Lady Chester to a late breakfast.

For Caterina, it was to do some soul-searching about the ingredients lacking in her usually irresistible flirting. ‘What more can I do?’ she asked, almost in tears.

‘Less,’ said Aunt Amelie, ‘not more. Rarely more, my dear.’ Impolitely, she licked the last smear of porridge off the back of her spoon and placed it at an exact half-past position in her empty bowl so as not to spoil the symmetry of the design. ‘Will you take chocolate?’

‘Yes, please. If I did any less, he’d fall asleep.’

‘That’s not what I meant. Pass your cup. What I mean is that you appear to be taking the lead, Caterina. That doesn’t give a man much to do, you see.’ Amelie handed back the cup of chocolate, reading the affliction in her niece’s eyes. ‘It’s also a question of age difference, and the best way to deal with that problem, since you cannot catch him up, is to emphasise it. Pretend he’s too old for you, not that you’re too young.’

‘How?’

‘Easy. Start by ignoring him more. Show less interest in him. Look at him less, and pretend not to hear, sometimes, when he addresses you. That kind of thing. Smile and be animated, but not for his benefit. You’re far too concerned by what he thinks of you at the moment and he knows it. It’s not good for him. Don’t show him your heart. Keep some secrets.’

‘You don’t mean that I should cut him, surely?’

‘No … oh, no … nothing as drastic. Just pretend he’s a minor character instead of the main one. Men hate to be ignored, love. It really puts them in a quake, especially when they’re supposed to be escorting you. You saw how all those young officers buzzed round you this morning? Well, take advantage of their interest. There was that dashing Captain Flavell at the ball. He was interesting. And the one they called Bessie?’

‘Captain Tom Bessingham.’

‘Another captain? Well, my dear.’ Amelie sat back, smiling.

‘What happens when Lord Rayne offers to take me driving?’

‘You don’t
have
to accept him, my dear. Anyway, we’re riding this afternoon, so when he offers to assist you, show him politely that you don’t need him. It’s just as much fun, you know.’

Caterina was smiling again. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘oh, yes. I think I could have some fun with that. Where shall we be going?’

‘I really haven’t been able to find that out yet.’ She stood up, catching sight of a newly ironed newspaper draped over one of the chairs.

Lord Elyot had been annoyingly mysterious, and Amelie’s trust in his motives had now taken such a pounding that the idea of a mystery tour held no appeal for her. Although she was trying her hardest to conceal it, the events of that morning had turned her careful plans upside-down along with her personal code, which was to keep men at a distance and, as far as possible, out of her life completely. To progress from that to being little better than a nobleman’s mistress in a matter of days went against all her intentions, for which she blamed Hurst for his baseness, and herself for allowing her heart to rule her head. Lord Elyot was right about her being unworldly, and now her chat to Caterina about how to deal with men had left her feeling distinctly hypocritical and by no means as sure as she sounded about the outcome. Perhaps she ought to take the plunge by taking Caterina into her confidence, but the young lady was having enough trouble understanding her own situation without trying to make sense of her aunt’s also. And there was a limit to Caterina’s knowledge of the Buxton scandal.

‘You’ve
what
?’ said Lord Rayne to his brother. A deep crease drew his dark brows closer together like a thundercloud, his mouth forming a narrow line that heralded some caustic remark regarding the cool announcement. ‘You’ve formed an alliance already? I know you work fast, Nick, but this is almost indecent.’

‘Lord, brother, you sound more like Father every day,’ Lord Elyot muttered.

‘No, I don’t. Father would remind you that you don’t form that kind of alliance without first consulting him so that he can tell you why it won’t work. Is that why you’ve given him the slip?’ He grinned, mischievously.

Approaching the heavy wrought-iron gates of Sheen Court, Nick waited until they were on the long driveway before answering. ‘It was not the way it appears. I’ve had to move rather faster than usual, that’s all. Well … no, that’s not quite all. This one is different, Sete.’

Seton’s frown returned as he stole a sideways glance to judge his brother’s seriousness and saw, by the total absence of the usual triumphant grin, that it was indeed quite a different matter, this time. He drew gently upon his reins. ‘Well slow down and tell me, then. Are you saying you’ve
offered
for her? Why couldn’t you come to the same informal arrangement you usually do?’

‘Take her as my mistress, you mean? That suggestion would not have gone down very well, but the problem is that word has already got out that Lady Chester and I have an understanding. Don’t ask me how it happened, because I’m not at liberty to explain, but it’s there, and rather than have to deny it at every end and turn, which would take some doing, it suits my purpose to go along with it. But it looks as if Father and Mother may hear our names linked before I can inform them of my intentions.’

‘Which they will not like one bit. Send them a letter, Nick.’

‘Yes, I shall send Todd up to St James’s Square this afternoon with some other information. That’s the best I can do. Don’t look like that, lad. They’ve been nagging me for years to find a wife, so I may well get round to it, eventually.’

Seton picked up on the tone. ‘That sounds as if you’re not
too sure of her, in spite of the understanding. Is she not willing, after all?’

‘The story’s a bit complicated, Sete. I’ll tell you one day, but I wanted you to know that she’s accepted me partly because it will help to get Miss Chester launched into the auction ring, which she’s having trouble with down here.’

‘Only partly? What’s the other part?’ When his brother’s reply was slow to emerge, Seton made it for him. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘so you’ve got something on her. She’s not willing, but she has to accept you to keep you quiet. Eh? Well, that’s not your usual style. And how long is this … engagement … going to last, may I ask, until you snare another bird, or until she …?’

‘No, there will be no other, Sete. It’s this one, or nothing.’

‘Oh, really. And does
she
believe that?’

‘It’s the last thing she wants to hear at this point. She would not believe a word of it, I’m afraid.’

The hooves clattered across the stableyard cobbles where grooms came running to hold the bridles and to wait for the men to dismount. With a last look at the swishing tails, the brothers turned towards the house.

‘Sounds to me,’ said Seton, unhelpfully frank, ‘as if you’re nicked in the pipkin, old chap. Taking on a prime Ace of Spades and a niece can spell nothing but a fistful o’ trouble, ‘specially if it’s not much to her liking. Still, you usually know what you’re doing. You can rely on my discretion, you know that.’

‘Yes, I do know, Sete. Thanks. The story so far, in case our sister wants to know, is that Lady Chester’s affairs are being examined to see what’s what. Meanwhile we shall be seen out and about together before any announcement is made. That should give the parents time to see that I’m serious.’

‘But Father’s bound to think she’s Apartments to Let, Nick.’

‘Maybe at first, until he can see for himself that it’s not so. She’s as able to flash the screens as any widow in London, and more than most. You’ve seen for yourself what would drive a man to make a bid for her, haven’t you?’

The long slow breath expelled from between Seton’s lips was followed by a deeply envious growl. ‘I wish that pert little miss had half her aunt’s style. She’s a nice enough little thing, and I don’t mind helping you out while I have nothing much else to do, but there are times when I’d like to put her across my knee.’

‘Then you’re being too kind to her,’ said his brother, tersely, passing his hat, gloves and riding whip to a waiting footman.

‘You told me to be kind, dammit.’

‘Use your loaf, Sete. If the chit needs a firm hand, then use one. She’ll not break in half.’

‘You don’t suppose she’ll go crying to Aunt Amelie, then?’

Lord Elyot allowed himself a huff of amusement at last, though it was for the name, not the potential crisis. ‘No!’ he said. ‘She might cry into her pillow, but she’d not admit to losing the upper hand. I expect she’s had her father wrapped round her little finger since her mama died, so now’s the time to break the habit before she kicks the door down.’

Seton’s whip slapped hard against the side of his top-boot before he handed it over. ‘Oh, good lord, Nick, why should I care what bad habits she gets? She’s not a filly of my choosing.’

‘Then have yourself a bit of fun,’ said Lord Elyot, callously. ‘It’s only for the short term, after all. You’ve broken in fillies before.’

‘Not two-legged ones.’ The frown returned. ‘You’re not suggesting I seduce her, are you?’

‘Of course I’m not, halfwit. I’m not suggesting anything
as irrevocable as that. But if you want her to grow up, you must school her. You’ve had it too easy, Sete. See what you can make of her.’

‘Hmph!’ Seton grunted.

It soon became evident, that afternoon, that the promised ride was to lead them up the stony road to Hill Common, the road Amelie had last travelled on a donkey in driving rain and darkness. By daylight, it gave them astonishing views across the river, across Richmond town and the royal parkland beyond. But it was the workhouse itself that surprised her most, having never seen it except in her imagination where she expected it to resemble all the others she knew of, stark, uninviting, with high walls and barred windows, silent, forbidding, a desolate last resort.

In reality, the only common factor with those she had seen was its size: in every other respect the Richmond workhouse was revolutionary in its attitude to care and clean accommodation, in variety of useful occupation and teaching, in food and self-sufficiency, in everything but the luxury of family, which many of them had never had, anyway. Amelie and Caterina learnt that it had its own infirmary and maternity ward, which is where Lord Elyot guessed they would stay longest.

While the men visited the leather workshop, the weavers, the gardens and the blacksmith, the two women were escorted by the friendly white-aproned matron into a bright clean dormitory that smelled of babies and soap and woodsmoke from the fire. Between curtains, beds and cots were arranged along each wall and round the central pillars and, although privacy was not a priority, mother and childcare was of a kind that
Amelie had thought quite impossible in a place which, by tradition, had such a low regard for human comforts.