Regency Rumour: Never Trust a Rake / Reforming the Viscount

But she couldn’t help sighing. ‘Well, Miss Waverley is exceptionally beautiful. And poised. She only has to smile on a man to dazzle him …’

Lord Deben did not like to see her looking suddenly so dejected. It did not seem right that she should compare herself unfavourably to a female of Miss Waverley’s stamp. ‘Well, she did not dazzle me,’ he said firmly. ‘I was singularly unimpressed by her.’

Yes, Henrietta reflected with some satisfaction. He’d had no trouble whatsoever in repulsing her.

Encouraged by the way she perked up, he continued, ‘In fact, I would go so far as to say she is no more dazzling than you.’ Her confidence had suffered a knock, so he would give it a well-deserved boost.

‘What!’

When Henrietta turned a puzzled face towards him, she found herself on the receiving end of a long, hard stare.

‘Not that I am saying that you are a real beauty. Just that you are by no means less capable of dazzling a man, should you put your mind to it.’

‘Not a beauty …’ she managed to gasp before her breath caught in a lump somewhere in her throat, making speech impossible.

‘You only have to compare yourself with Miss Waverley to know I speak nothing but the truth. But let me tell you, as an expert on what makes a female attractive to a man, that you are not completely lacking in potential.’

‘You mean by that, I suppose, that I am not a complete antidote?’

‘Far from it.’ He turned his lazy perusal over her face once more. ‘You have a remarkably good complexion. No superfluous facial hair. A fine pair of expressive eyes and a set of good, straight teeth. As a connoisseur of beauty, I cannot help regretting that your nose is out of proportion to the rest of your features, but I see no reason why you could not, to use your own words, “dazzle” a man who is not so nice in his tastes.’

‘You …’ She clenched her fists, struggling to keep her temper. ‘You are the rudest man I have ever met.’

‘Not rude. Honest. But how typical of a female,’ he said with a curl to his lip, ‘to latch on to the one item, out of a whole catalogue of genuine compliments, which you can construe as an insult and take umbrage.’

‘And how like a man to deliver a lacklustre compliment in such a way that no female with an ounce of pride could take it as anything but an insult!’

‘Miss Gibson, I have just complimented you on your complexion, your eyes and your teeth, told you that with the right attitude you could successfully dazzle a susceptible male, and you fixate on the one flaw that you cannot deny you have.’

They were approaching the Cumberland Gate for the second time.

‘Take me home,’ she said. ‘I demand that you take me home right this instant. And never, ever call on me again.’

Lord Deben looked down at her in disbelief. Women sought him out. They fawned over him. They sent him languorous looks across heated ballrooms and slipped him notes to let him know where they could be found should he wish to avail himself of their charms.

They even waylaid him on terraces in the attempt to force him into marriage.

They did not tell him he was rude, dismiss him with a haughty toss of their head and demand to be taken home.

So naturally he steered his team right past the gate and commenced upon a third circuit of the park.

‘This outing will end when I decide it will end,’ he informed her curtly. ‘And if I wish to call on you, who is to prevent me? Your aunt? She would not dare,’ he drawled with contempt.

Henrietta could not believe what he was saying. At the start of this outing, he had informed her himself that he had no intention of wasting more of his precious time on her than was absolutely necessary.

‘You are abominable,’ she hissed. ‘You no more wish to prolong this outing than I. Nor can I believe you have any intention of calling on me again. You just like throwing your weight around. You … you bully.’

‘A bully, by definition, oppresses those weaker than himself for his own pleasure,’ he snapped. ‘At no time have I attempted to oppress you. No, and what is more, everything I have done in your regard has been for your benefit. And the longer I spend with you, the more convinced I become that you need somebody to watch over you. You do not appear to have any instinct for self-preservation at all. You say whatever comes into your head, without giving thought to the consequences, never mind the way you act. You leap into situations that are well beyond your comprehension, with a naïveté that is truly stunning.’

‘You have only seen me act impulsively the once,’ she retorted. ‘And believe me, I regret interfering …’ She faltered. ‘No, no, actually …’ she lifted her chin and looked at him defiantly ‘… no, I don’t regret it. I cannot like Miss Waverley and I don’t suppose I ever shall. But I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if you really had ruined her, not knowing that I’d witnessed the whole thing and could have stopped it if I’d acted.’

‘What?’

‘I think you heard me. But to make it even clearer for you, I admit I may have acted in a way you think was naïve and foolhardy, but at least my actions that night ended in good.’

‘Ye gods, you sound like some kind of … Puritan. As though you were brought up to believe in some antiquated code of fair play that went out with the restoration of the monarchy.’

‘I was brought up to tell the truth, and value honour and decency,’ she said. ‘There is nothing unusual in that.’

He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Now that just goes to prove how naïve you really are. And how much you stand in need of a protector. I have lived far longer than you and moved in wider circles, and so far I have not met anyone else who would put such values above their own self-interest. If it wasn’t for the fact you allowed your feelings about Miss Waverley to show enough to call her a cat, I would wash my hands of you entirely. For if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is a sanctimonious hypocrite.’

‘I am not sanctimonious! Nor a hypocrite. I—’

‘Very well,’ he bit out. ‘I absolve you of that sin. Sin,’ he laughed bitterly. ‘Who am I to absolve anyone of sin? Since, according to one who considers himself an authority on the subject, I am the most blackened sinner of this generation.’

‘Are you?’ She flushed guiltily at having the temerity to say such a thing, and hastily attempted to cover her blunder. ‘I mean … I wonder that anyone dared to say it.’

‘A vicar tends to think his pulpit gives him a certain measure of authority,’ he said. ‘And since the vicar in question also happened to be my brother, he felt no compunction in haranguing me in public for a change.’

For a change? She frowned. ‘If he is in the habit of, um, haranguing you, what on earth made you go and sit in a church where he was preaching?’

‘An idiotic notion that my presence at his first appearance in the parish where he went to take up his living might go some way to mending the breach between us.’ Instead, he’d learned that the seeds of hatred his father had sown during their childhood had taken such deep root not even his brother’s so-called Christianity was sufficient to make him forgive and forget. Will’s face had been contorted with spite as he’d moralised about the sins of fornication and adultery, culminating with a look of total malice as he’d rounded off by proclaiming that the meek would inherit the earth.

Well, that was as may be, but one thing Will would not be inheriting—no, not even though he’d already managed to get his wife with child—was one inch of his father’s property. His father’s property. He’d always known he would have to marry and produce an heir, but reluctance to end up tied to a woman like his mother, in a relationship like the one his parents had endured, had made him drag his feet.

That woman! He might have had real siblings if she’d had any sense of decency at all. If she’d even bothered to defend any of her brood from his father’s malice, they might now be able to tolerate one another. Instead of which, the olive branch he’d extended to Will, by going to support him in his new parish, had been taken out of his hands and used as a weapon to beat him with.

Well, if it was war Will wanted, war he should have. He’d decided there and then that he must put aside his aversion to women in general, and wives in particular, and set up his nursery. One legitimate son, that was all he needed. One male child, sired indisputably by him.

The look on Lord Deben’s face made Henrietta’s heart go out to him, even as her hand went out to clutch at the handrail. His brother had evidently hurt him by denouncing his morals from the pulpit. Not that men ever admitted to being hurt. But it certainly explained why he’d whipped up his horses and was suddenly driving them at such a demonic pace.

She braced her feet against the footboard as he put his curricle through a gap that was so slender she was almost convinced he would lock wheels with one of the other carriages. When they made it through, with what looked like barely an inch to spare, and he urged his horses to even greater speed, she bit down on her lower lip and the craven urge to beg him to take care. He had already accused her of various defects in her character. She was not going to let him add the feminine one of timidity to the list and give him another excuse to sneer at her.

Besides, men needed a way to work through their feelings, since they would scorn to go away somewhere quiet and weep. She’d seen it often enough with her brothers. They went out and shot something, or got into a fight—or rode their horses at breakneck speed.

‘You can wash your hands of me with a completely clear conscience,’ she declared, surreptitiously taking a tighter hold on the handrail. In the event they did collide with anything, at least she might avoid the ignominy of being pitched on to the grass verge like a sack of grain.

‘I do not consider that you owe me anything.’

‘Well, that is just where you are wrong, Miss Gibson. I owe you more than you can imagine.’ His search for a wife would not have prospered with the scandal Miss Waverley had almost unleashed upon him. Oh, he had no doubt that there would have been women still prepared to overlook what they would perceive as a lack of gentlemanly behaviour, but the encounter with Miss Waverley had taught him he would, indeed, rather shoot himself in the leg than shackle himself to one such. ‘And for that reason, I have decided to help you.’

He smiled. In a way that made him look cruel.

She shivered. And admitted, ‘I am not sure I like the sound of that.’

From the look on his face, whatever form this ‘help’ might take did not stem from any sense of altruism. He’d already told her he did not care what anyone thought of him, or might say of him. So, if he was planning anything, it was not because he wanted to help her, not really, but because in some way it would benefit him.

‘Come, come, wouldn’t you like to win your suitor back from Miss Waverley?’

‘Not particularly.’ She was not about to tell him that Richard had never, technically, been her suitor. But anyway, she was done with trying to get him to notice her. All it had accomplished was her humiliation.

‘Well, even if that were true,’ he said in a derisive tone, not taking his eyes from his team, ‘I think you would enjoy taking the wind out of Miss Waverley’s sails. And I certainly would. I have a strong aversion to letting people think they can manipulate me.’

She knew it! This was nothing to do with protecting her, or helping her. He was trying to use her to take his own revenge upon Miss Waverley.

‘So do I,’ she retorted. She was not going to let him use her, or involve her in any of his schemes.

‘Well, then, let us discuss what is to be done.’

‘No, you don’t understand, I—’

‘To begin with,’ he cut in before she could even start explaining, ‘I do not think the case is as hopeless as you seem to think.’

Amazingly, his dark mood seemed abruptly to have lifted. He’d slowed his horses to a steady trot and he was smiling—although the smile that played about his lips was so cruel that it sent a shiver down her spine. This was not a man to cross. How on earth had Miss Waverley thought she could get away with it? He was downright dangerous.

‘Miss Waverley obviously does not want him herself, or she would not have set her sights on me. Perhaps, once she had snared him, she discovered he is not as wealthy or well connected as she had first supposed.’

Henrietta did not think it had been as calculated as all that. It just seemed to be in Miss Waverley’s nature to want to make a conquest of every good-looking male who crossed her path. And Richard was more than just good looking, he was downright handsome. Far more so than Lord Deben, whose features were marred by being always set in a kind of sneer. Or twisted by whatever inner demons had made him take such risks with his team, and his carriage, not to mention his passenger, by setting such a pace.

It was a shame really, she mused, darting him a swift glance, because if he didn’t look so cross all the time, he might be very attractive. He had the full, sensual lips, and the lazy hooded eyes, that put her in mind of portraits she’d seen of Charles II.

Not that he would be foppish enough to sport ringlets, or disguise that fit, muscular body in yards of lace and velvet.

‘That is half the battle,’ he said, giving Henrietta a brief vision of him leading a cavalry charge against a solid square of soberly dressed roundheads, wearing just the expression he wore now.

‘The other half is demonstrating that you are far superior to Miss Waverley, in every way. That you are a woman worth pursuing.’

She snorted. She could not help it. Richard would never pursue her. She was the one who’d done all the pursuing thus far.

‘Come, come, Miss Gibson,’ he said when she did not make him any answer apart from that derisive snort. ‘Have you no pride? Would you not like to see him realise the error of his ways?’

‘I have plenty of pride,’ she retorted. The trouble was, it had already taken enough of a battering. ‘Which is exactly why I will do nothing to attempt to make him change his mind.’

‘But at least,’ said Lord Deben, ‘you are no longer attempting to deny that there is an admirer, that Miss Waverley has poached him and that you were so upset you ran out of a ballroom to hide behind a set of planters to weep your little heart out.’

He’d tricked her! He’d spoken of things she’d wanted to keep private in such a way that she’d inadvertently confirmed everything!

‘Are you satisfied? Now that you’ve pried all my secrets from me?’

‘Not yet,’ he replied calmly, as though he was impervious to her mounting rage. ‘But before I am done, we shall both be, I promise you.’

‘I … I …’ She clenched her fists. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘It is really very simple. If I were to appear to find you fascinating, other men would want to discover what I see in you. If I swear that I think you are a diamond of the first water, you could have your pick of the rest of the herd, if you find you no longer wish to take up Miss Waverley’s leavings.’

‘Oh, for heavens’ sake! I have never heard such arrogance in my whole life.’

‘It is not arrogance, merely knowledge of human nature. Most people are like sheep, who follow mindlessly behind their natural leaders. Besides, you are from a good family and comfortably circumstanced. Once I have brought you to public notice and cleared up the misconception about your connection to the Ledbetters, there is no reason why you should not acquire a bevy of genuine suitors.’

Henrietta hated to admit it, but she could see exactly what he meant. She had often observed that a man with strong convictions could persuade others to follow their lead. And also that what several men liked, others would claim to as well, or risk being thought odd. His stratagem might actually work.

‘No, really …’ she began, but even to her own ears her voice lacked conviction. So she was not surprised by his answer.

‘You are tempted, I can tell. Wouldn’t you like,’ he said, his voice lowering to a seductive tone, ‘to outshine Miss Waverley? Would you not like to be the toast of the ton? Have your hand sought after? Your drawing room full of suitors?’

The toast of the ton.

That … that did sound tempting.

It wasn’t that she wanted Richard any more, not really. But he had said such hurtful things. And, ignoble though it was, she would dearly love to show him she was more than just a country mouse. To prove that London was not too rackety for her, but, on the contrary, that she could become one of its leading lights. Just imagine what it would be like to have London society at her feet!

The thing was, Lord Deben moved in the very best circles, not on the fringes where Richard had worked so hard to secure a foothold. He was an earl, with the right to go wherever he pleased, not the son of a country squire who needed to watch every step he took, every friend he made, for fear of being laughed out of countenance.

For a few moments she indulged in a daydream of attending some glittering ton event, where she danced all night with a succession of earls and marquises. And Richard would be gnashing his teeth in the doorway, because they wouldn’t let him in to tell her how much he regretted missing his chance with her. Miss Waverley would not have even been invited to the event either. Or, no, even better, she would be there, but sitting on the sidelines, ignored as she had once been ignored …

It was so tempting. She knew Lord Deben was not offering her this chance for her sake, but out of his own desire for revenge, yet if she played along …

But then she suddenly recalled her father telling her that if she could ever apply the word temptation to something she wanted to do, then she knew she oughtn’t really to be doing it. And felt like Eve reaching out to take that shiny, delicious apple from the serpent.

‘You … you are a devil,’ she gasped.

He chuckled. ‘Because I am tempting you to give in to a side of your nature you do not wish to admit you have?’

Oh, there was that word again.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, ashamed though she was to admit it.

‘But you will do it.’

The glittering vision he’d shown her wavered and took a new form. The faces of the people in it were haughty and cruel. And she, by joining them and giving former friends like Richard the cold shoulder, of inflicting the same misery that she’d borne on Miss Waverley, made her as cruel and hard as they were.

She didn’t want to become such a person.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She would not become that sort of person.

‘No,’ she said firmly. Then, a little louder, ‘No. It would not be right.’

‘You are refusing my offer?’

‘Most certainly.’

The ungrateful baggage. He had never exerted himself to such an extent for anyone else, or promised so much of his time to aid their cause.

It was Will all over again. Spurning the hand of friendship which he’d extended and spitting in his face.

His face shuttered. ‘On your own head be it, then.’

‘What do you mean?’

She frowned up at him, those ridiculous feathers bobbing in the breeze. She really had no idea. Over the next few days, society would beat a path to her door, whether she wanted them to or not.

There was nothing she could do to prevent it. Everyone had seen him driving an unknown female around the park not once, but three times, and all the while engaged in animated conversation. He had taken care not to acknowledge anyone, which would stoke their curiosity about her to fever pitch. Why, they would want to know, would such a renowned connoisseur of female beauty have paid so much attention to this rather vulgarly attired little nonentity?

They would want to know who she was, what her connection was to him and where she had come from. They would not leave her be until they had pried every last one of her secrets from her. She would very soon regret her stubborn refusal to make her a reigning queen of society. Then—oh, yes, then he would have this proud little Puritan crawling to him.

‘You will find out. And when you do, don’t forget that I offered my protection.’

When they reached the gates the next time he put his team straight through them and took the turn out on to Oxford Street.

Henrietta could see she had offended him by turning him down, but really, after only these two encounters with him, she was sure it would be better never to tangle with him again. He was too autocratic. Too far out of her social sphere. Too clever and tempting, and worldly and, oh, altogether too much!

She bade farewell to that vision of a glittering ballroom and all those nobles who’d wanted her to dance with them. She was going home, to her dear aunt and uncle, to Mildred and Mr Crimmer. Back to the world of pantomimes at Covent Garden, and dinners in the homes of businessmen, and balls where she would dance with the sons of aldermen and merchants.

And when she went home to Much Wakering she would at least do so with a clear conscience.

Lord Deben remained silent with that expression of displeasure on his face all the way back to Bloomsbury. But when she alighted outside her aunt’s house, to her surprise he tossed the reins to his tiger, sprang down and caught up with her before she’d set foot on the first step.

‘Miss Gibson,’ he said sharply.

She sighed. What now?

‘You are such a simpleton,’ he said, glancing down the street as though he was already itching to be away. ‘You don’t know what you are saying, to turn down my offer of assistance. And though you have made me very angry, I cannot leave things between us like this.’ He wouldn’t mind making her pay for her rudeness to him by leaving her to the mercy of the gossipmongers. But he did not want her to come to complete shipwreck. She was so naïve, and … and green, believing in goodness and decency, and telling the truth and shaming the devil.

He seized her hand and looked directly into her eyes, his expression, for once, neither mocking nor dismissive, but earnest.

‘You came rushing to my help, that night on Miss Twining’s terrace, even though I did not need it. I find,’ he said with a perplexed frown, ‘that I cannot turn my back on such a foolhardy, gallant gesture.’

More than half of his anger with her, he had realised during the drive back to Bloomsbury, was due to the fact she did not appreciate how rare it was for him to want to put himself out for anyone. The rest, well …

‘I think,’ he said, ‘that in some ways we are very much alike. You have a good deal of pride. It is why you hid behind the plant pots to cry, rather than go running to your aunt. Why you spurn the offer of help from me, a man you hardly know, rather than admitting you stand in need of it.’

He was doing it again. Assuming he knew all about her.

And the most annoying thing of all was the fact that he was pretty near the mark.

‘Do not be too proud,’ he said with an infuriatingly sympathetic smile, ‘to turn to me should you ever really need it.’

‘Oh, I’m sure I shan’t.’

‘Yes, but if you should, I will be there. Remember that.’

‘Well, then, thank you, my lord.’ She pulled her hand from his and nodded to him, setting her ostrich feathers quivering wildly.

‘And good day.’

She turned and pounded up the steps to the front door as though the devil himself was after her.

That was clearly what she thought. He frowned. It was perhaps better for her to stay away from a man like him. They came from different worlds.

If she stepped into his, she would soon lose that delightful innocence, that childlike belief in good and evil.

His face set in harsh lines, he mounted up behind his team and set his curricle in motion. The best way for him to protect her probably would be to stay well away from her.