The Earl's Runaway Bride

‘You are right,’ replied Nathan. ‘I begin to wish I had never left the army!’

Sir James laughed and got up to refill their glasses.

‘Do you miss it, my lord, the military life?’

‘It was the only life I had ever known, until last year. I obtained my commission in the Guards when I was sixteen.’

‘The title came as a surprise?’

Nathan nodded. ‘Quite. The old Earl, my uncle, had three healthy sons, so I never expected to inherit. But the two youngest boys perished in Spain.’ Nathan paused for a moment, recalling the icy winters and scorching summers: the torrential rain, cloying mud, flies and disease that took their toll of the troops. It was said more men were killed by disease and the weather than by Bonaparte’s army. The scar across his left eye began to ache. Too many memories. He shook them off. ‘Their loss may well have hastened the old man’s end. He died at the beginning of the year ’12 and his heir took a fall on the hunting field less than six months later. When the news came I thought it my duty to come home. Boney was on the run, after all.’ He allowed himself a little smile. ‘Since then I have been so tied up with my new duties I’ve had no time to miss the army.’

‘And do your new duties include looking for a wife? You will need an heir.’

Nathan’s reply was short. ‘My cousin is my heir.’

‘The ladies won’t see it that way.’ Sir James winked. ‘You are now the biggest catch on the Marriage Mart.’

An iron claw twisted itself around Nathan’s guts. ‘I do not think so.’

‘Oh? From all I’ve heard of you, my boy, you have never had trouble attracting women. Your reputation precedes you,’ said Sir James, when Nathan raised his brows. ‘It is said that Europe is littered with the hearts you have broken. Although to your credit, I have never heard that you seduced innocent young virgins.’

No, thought Nathan bitterly. Only once did I break that rule, to my cost!

His lip curled. ‘With such a reputation I would expect the doting mothers to keep their chicks away from me.’

‘But they won’t, believe me. They will be planning their own campaigns once they know you are in town.’ Nathan’s hand briefly touched his temple and Sir James smiled. ‘And don’t think that scar will frighten them away—’tis more likely to fascinate ’em; it will add to your attractions!’

Hurriedly Nathan rose. ‘If there is nothing else to discuss I must be away.’ He saw his host’s brows rise and tried to moderate his tone. ‘I do not think there is much that can be done until the allied leaders arrive next month.’

‘You are right, of course. We will meet again before then to discuss our roles.’ Sir James chuckled. ‘Thank God his Highness is too busy designing new uniforms for his troops and working on his plans for a grand spectacle in Hyde Park to worry about us. Goodbye, then, for the moment, my lord. If you have no other engagements, you might like to join me for dinner on Wednesday night. I am expecting Lady Souden to be here by then, but we shall not be entertaining: just a snug little dinner, if you care for it.’

Nathan bowed. ‘My presence in town is not generally known yet, so I have no fixed engagements.’ He bowed. ‘Thank you, sir. I should be delighted to join you.’

London, thought Felicity gloomily as she gazed out of the carriage window, was crowded and noisy and so very dirty. The roads were thick with rubbish and droppings from the hundreds of horses and oxen that plodded up and down, the cobbles only visible in the wheel tracks or where a crossing sweeper cleared a temporary path for a pedestrian and earned a penny for his pains. The cries of the flower-seller mingled with those of the knife-grinder and the hot-pie man as they hawked their wares from street to street. Rows of tall houses lined the road, mile upon mile of brick and stone with barely a patch of grass to be seen.

In one corner of the carriage, Lady Souden’s severe-looking dresser was snoring gently while Lydia herself was sitting bolt upright, staring out of the window, her eyes shining and a little smile of anticipation lifting her mouth. She was born to be a society hostess, thought Felicity. She delighted in parties and balls and could not understand Felicity’s reluctance to come to town. After all, she reasoned, if Felicity refused to go into society, what did it matter if she was in London or at Souden?

But it did matter. Felicity knew that there was danger in London.

Nathan Carraway was in London.

Chapter Two

The carriage drew up outside Sir James’s house in Berkeley Square and Felicity followed Lydia through the gleaming front door and into the study on the ground floor, where Sir James was waiting for them. Lydia ran in, cast aside her swansdown muff and threw herself into her husband’s arms. He kissed her soundly before holding her away from him.

‘Well, well now, puss, have you missed me?’ he said, laughing. ‘What will Miss Brown think of this very unfashionable display of affection?’

‘Miss Brown is delighted with this display of domestic harmony,’ murmured Felicity, her grey eyes twinkling.

Sir James grinned at her, keeping one arm about his wife’s still tiny waist.

‘I’m glad to hear it. And I am glad to see you, Miss Brown. I hope Lady Souden has warned you, we are to be very busy for the next two months.’

‘She told me you would be entertaining a great deal, Sir James.’

‘Aye, dukes, duchesses, crown princes—and never a moment to call our own. What do you say to that, Miss Brown?’

‘I say Lady Souden is equal to the challenge, sir.’

‘Aye, so do I,’ declared Sir James, giving his wife another kiss. ‘But I rely upon you to look after her when I am not here, Miss Brown. Lydia is far too careless of her health, especially now.’

Felicity met his eyes and said resolutely, ‘You may depend upon me, Sir James. I would not wish any harm to come to Lady Souden or the unborn child.’

Sir James bestowed a grateful smile upon her.

‘Thank you, I am sure I may. Lydia has told me of your fear of going out, Miss Brown, and I will do everything I can to lessen your own discomfiture. A carriage shall be at your disposal at all times, you have only to say the word. Now upstairs and unpack, the pair of you, for we have a guest for dinner.’

‘Oh?’ Lydia clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Is it someone I know?’

‘No, a young man I met only t’other day, but he is very agreeable, I assure you. He will set all the young ladies’ hearts aflutter this summer, I have not a doubt.’

‘Oh, who?’ cried Lydia. ‘Do tell me, my love!’

Sir James kissed her nose.

‘He is a young nobleman. Rich, handsome and most clearly in want of a wife.’ He looked from Felicity to Lady Souden, his smile growing. ‘It is the new Earl of Rosthorne.’

Felicity’s hands tightened on her reticule. What cruel trick was fate playing upon her, to force the earl upon her notice so soon? She cast an anguished look at Lydia, who attempted a little laugh as she turned to her husband.

‘R-Rosthorne? Well, bless me! How is this, my dear?’

‘He is newly arrived in town,’ explained Sir James. ‘We met to discuss the arrangements for looking after his Highness’s guests at the forthcoming Peace Celebrations and he struck me as a very pleasant young man. I thought it would please you to meet him, my love.’

‘It—it does,’ stammered Lydia. ‘It is a little sudden, that is all. Having just arrived…’

‘Well, he is not expecting any formal ceremony. Just a snug little dinner, I told him, so off you go and put on one of those pretty gowns of yours, my love. You are required to look charming tonight, nothing more.’

‘Then perhaps Lady Souden should come upstairs and rest for a little while,’ suggested Felicity, edging towards the door.

With another slightly hysterical laugh Lydia allowed Felicity to lead her away, leaving Sir James still chuckling to himself.

‘I am sorry, Fee,’ she whispered as they went up the stairs. ‘I had no idea James would invite Rosthorne to the house!’

Felicity sighed. ‘It was inevitable, I suppose, but I did not expect it to be today.’

Lydia squeezed her hand. ‘You must not worry, my love, you need not see him. This house has so many rooms the earl could be living here and not know of your existence!’

Despite Lady Souden’s assurances Felicity found herself growing ever more anxious as the hour approached for Lord Rosthorne’s arrival. For five years she had done everything in her power to remain hidden from Nathan Carraway and the thought that he would shortly be in the same house terrified her. Not least because she had an overwhelming desire to see him again.

It was dangerous, but she could not resist. A few minutes after Lydia had gone down to the drawing room, Felicity slipped out of the little chamber that Lady Souden had decreed should be set aside as her own private sitting room. The entrance hall of Souden House extended up to the roof and a glazed dome provided natural light for the ornate staircase that rose from a central point to the half-landing before splitting into two flights that curved around the side walls to the first floor and the main reception rooms. From there a narrower stair curled up to the second floor where a small balcony overlooked the hall below. During past seasons Felicity had often brought her young charges on to this balcony when Sir James was entertaining and they had spent many a happy hour watching the arrival of the guests. Now she decided to use it for her own purposes.

Feeling very much like an errant schoolchild, she crept towards the edge of the balcony and sank down. Felicity knew from experience that visitors rarely raised their eyes beyond the ornately decorated first floor. Her dark-grey gown blended well with the shadows and through the balusters she had an excellent view of the front door and entrance hall as well as the first rise of the staircase. The long-case clock on the landing below chimed the hour. It was followed almost immediately by the sounds of an arrival. Felicity knew a sudden, irrational desire to laugh—trust Nathan to be so punctual, it was the soldier in him.

Then he was there. They were in the same house, the same space. She leaned forward, straining to see him. Her heart turned over as he walked into the hall, but his curlybrimmed beaver hat obscured her view of his face. She had never seen him in anything but his scarlet regimentals and thought him handsome in uniform but now, seeing his tall, athletic figure in the plain black swallowtailed coat, she almost fainted with a wild yearning to run down the stairs and throw herself into his arms. She stifled it, reminding herself of how he had betrayed her. She hated him, did she not? She had vowed she was done with him for ever. Yet here she was, hiding in the shadows, desperate to see the man who had broken her heart.

He spoke to the footman as he handed over his hat; she could not make out the words but his warm, deep voice awoke a memory and sent a tingle down her spine. She noticed that his brown hair was no longer tied back but cut short so that it just curled over his collar. He turned to ascend the stair and she was momentarily dazzled by his snowy white neckcloth and waistcoat. As he lifted his head she put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. A disfiguring scar cut through his left eyebrow and down across his cheek. His face was leaner and his mouth, which she remembered as almost constantly smiling, was turned down, the lines at each side more pronounced. She had expected him to look a little older, but the severity of his countenance shocked her.

Felicity had followed his career as closely as she could. She knew Nathan’s regiment had been involved in several bloody battles so she should not have been surprised to see he had been wounded, but the scar made it suddenly very real.

Do not be so foolish, she told herself. You should rejoice that he has been punished for the way he treated you! She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. It had been her uncle’s way to call down fury and retribution upon the heads of those that had offended him. But she was not like her uncle and the thought of Nathan’s suffering sliced into her heart. She stared again at the tall figure ascending the stairs.

Look up, she pleaded silently. Look at me.

As Nathan reached the top of the first flight of stairs he paused. Felicity’s heart was thudding against her ribs: if he raised his head now he would see her! For one joyous, frightening, panic-filled moment she thought he would do just that, but then he was turning to greet his host and Sir James’s bluff good-humoured voice was heard welcoming him.

‘Come along up, my lord, do not hesitate out there! Here is my lady wife waiting to make your acquaintance…’

The drawing room door was closed, the voices became nothing more than a low drone. Felicity slumped down, her head bowed. She had seen him. He was alive and apart from that scar on his face he looked well. A burst of laughter reached her: he even sounded happy.

And he was not aware of her existence.

Hot tears pricked her eyelids and she berated herself for her stupidity. It had been foolish to come to London, knowing he would be here. She should have known it would only bring pain. She dragged herself back to her room. It was senseless to think of him, laughing and talking with Lydia and Sir James in the gilded splendour of the dining room below. She would be best to put him out of her mind and go to sleep. That was the sensible thing to do.

But when the Earl of Rosthorne left the house several hours later, the silent grey figure was again watching from the upper balcony.

Having lost his first wife in childbirth, Sir James was morbidly anxious for Lydia. Felicity was aware of this and resolutely stifled her own misgivings as she offered to accompany Lady Souden about the town. Lydia’s delighted acceptance of her company was at least some comfort.

‘Oh, I am so pleased! I knew how it would be, once you saw how exciting it is going to be in town this summer. I only wish we could have been here for the procession in honour of King Louis last month, but there is so much to look forward to; it will be so entertaining.’

‘I am sure it will,’ said Felicity bravely.

Lydia gave her a long look. ‘And Lord Rosthorne?’

Felicity hesitated. ‘I must do my best to avoid him. If I dress very plainly I shall not attract attention. It is possible that he would not even recognise me now. Perhaps, when we go out during the day, I might be veiled.’

Lydia clapped her hands. ‘How exciting! But people will be so curious! We could say you are a grieving widow…’

‘No, no, Lydia, that will not do at all.’

But Lady Souden was not listening.

‘Smallpox,’ she declared. ‘You have been hideously scarred—or mayhap your head was misshapen at birth.’

In spite of her anxieties, Felicity laughed.

‘Shall I pad my shoulder and give myself a hunchback as well? That is quite enough, Lydia. We will say nothing.’

‘But people will think it very odd!’

‘I would rather they think me eccentric than deformed!’

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror the following day, Felicity could see nothing in her appearance to cause the least comment. Lydia had informed her that they were going to drive out in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. Felicity’s russet-brown walking dress was not quite as fashionable as Lady Souden’s dashing blue velvet with its military-style jacket but it looked well enough, and the double veil that covered her face was perfectly acceptable for any lady wishing to protect her complexion from the dust kicked up by the carriage horses.

The drive started well, but there was such a number of carriages in the park and so many people claiming acquaintance with the fashionable Lady Souden that it was impossible to make much progress. Lydia was enjoying herself hugely. She introduced ‘my companion, Miss Brown’ with just the right amount of indifference that very few bothered to spare more than a glance for the plainly dressed female with her modest bonnet and heavy veil. Felicity was beginning to relax and enjoy the sunshine when she spotted yet another carriage approaching, but this one was flanked by two riders, one of them the unmistakably upright figure of Lord Rosthorne.

She gripped Lydia’s arm and directed her attention to the coach.

‘Heaven and earth, Lady Charlotte Appleby! I had no idea she was in town.’

‘But Rosthorne is with her,’ exclaimed Felicity. ‘Can we not drive past?’

‘Too late,’ muttered Lydia, pinning on her smile. ‘They have seen us.’

She was obliged to order her driver to stop. Felicity held her breath and sat very still, praying she would not be noticed.

With the two carriages side by side, Nathan brought his horse to a stand and raised his hat to Lady Souden.

‘Good day to you, ma’am. You know my aunt, of course.’

‘Yes indeed.’ Lydia Souden turned her wide, friendly smile towards Lady Charlotte and was rewarded with no more than a regal nod. Nathan’s lips tightened. His aunt made sure no one ever forgot she was the daughter of an earl. Lady Charlotte raised her hand to indicate the second rider.

‘Let me present my son to you, ma’am. Mr Gerald Appleby.’

Nathan grinned inwardly as his cousin took off his hat and greeted Lady Souden with all the charm and courtesy that his mother lacked. Young scapegrace!

‘Delighted, ma’am! But we are remiss here, I think—will you not introduce your friend?’

Nathan blinked and berated himself. It was unusual for Gerald to show him the way, but he had not even noticed the rather dowdy little figure sitting beside Lady Souden, still as a statue.

‘Oh, this is my companion, Miss Brown. Lady Charlotte, you are in town for the Peace Celebrations?’

‘Yes. We were obliged to hire, since Rosthorne House is no longer available.’

‘You know that if you had given me sufficient notice I would have had rooms prepared for you, Aunt,’ replied Nathan.

‘In my brother’s day there were always rooms prepared and ready for me.’

‘Heavens, Mama, the house has been shut up for the past year or more,’ replied Gerald Appleby. ‘Nathan wasn’t expecting to come to town this summer, were you, Cos?’

‘No. Consequently I have only opened up such rooms as I require.’

‘Fortunately my man was able to secure a house in Cavendish Square,’ Lady Charlotte addressed Lydia. ‘With so many visitors in town this summer there was very little to suit. So different in Bath, of course, where I have my own house…’

‘My dear ma’am, there was any number of apartments that would have been ideal if you had not insisted upon having so many servants with you.’ Gerald glanced at his audience, a merry twinkle in his eye. ‘Only imagine the task: not only had her poor clerk to find somewhere with sufficient rooms for Mama’s household, but then he was obliged to find stables and accommodation for her coachman and groom, too!’

‘Really, Gerard, do you expect me to do without my carriage?’

‘No, but you might well do without your groom. You no longer ride, ma’am.’

‘Harris has been with me since I was a child. He comes with me everywhere.’

‘I wonder if perhaps he might have enjoyed a holiday,’ observed Gerald, but his mother was no longer listening.

‘My man had instructions to find me the very best,’ she announced. ‘And I do not think he has managed so ill.’

Nathan’s attention began to wander as the ladies discussed the forthcoming arrival of the foreign dignitaries. Gerald, he noticed, was passing the time by trying to flirt with the veiled companion. While his mother’s attention was given to speculation about the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg’s latest conquest, Gerald was leaning over the side of the carriage and murmuring outrageous remarks. The poor little dab looked quite uncomfortable. Nathan tried to catch Gerald’s eye. Damnation, why couldn’t the lad behave himself? Nathan’s hand clenched on the reins. He must get out of the ridiculous habit of regarding Gerald as a boy. He was eight-and-twenty, the same age as himself, but his cousin had not served a decade in the army, an experience that Gerald declared had left Nathan hardened and cynical. It might well be the case, but it was quite clear that the little figure in the carriage was not enjoying Gerald’s attentions. He was leaning closer now, his hand reaching out towards the edge of the veil.

‘Cousin, you go too far!’ Nathan’s voice cracked across the space between them. It was the tone he had used on new recruits and it had its effect. Gerald’s hand dropped.

‘I beg your pardon,’ Nathan addressed the rigid little figure. ‘My cousin sometimes allows his humour to go beyond what is pleasing.’

She did not reply and merely waved one small hand. He threw an admonishing glance at his cousin, who immediately looked contrite.

‘Indeed, Miss Brown, Rosthorne is right; I went too far and I beg your pardon.’ Gerald directed his most winning smile towards her. ‘Well, will you not speak? Pray, madam, take pity on me: I vow I shall not rest until you say that you forgive me. Miss Brown, I beg you.’

Nathan could not but admire Gerald’s tenacity. He was—

‘I do forgive you, sir. Let us forget this now.’

His head jerked up. That voice, the melodic inflection—it struck a chord, a fleeting memory: surely he had heard it before. He stared at the lady, trying to pierce the thick curtain of lace that concealed her face.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, frowning. ‘Have we—?’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ interposed Lady Souden with her sunny smile. ‘We are causing far too much congestion on this path. That will never do; we must drive on. If you will excuse us…’

There was nothing to do but to pull away and allow the carriage to pass.

‘Well, well, one must admit Lady Souden to be most charming,’ declared Lady Charlotte graciously. ‘She intends to hold a ball later this year. I have told her I shall attend. And you must come too, Gerald.’

Mr Appleby grinned across at his cousin. ‘Not really my line, Mama, but if you insist. What of you, Cos?’

Nathan shrugged. ‘If I receive an invitation I must go, I suppose.’ His thoughts returned to the veiled figure in the carriage. Something nagged at the back of his mind, a thought that he could not quite grasp. He said, ‘Who was the female with Lady Souden? Miss Brown. Have you met her before, Aunt?’

‘Lady Souden said she was her companion,’ replied Lady Charlotte. ‘No doubt she is some penniless relation.’ She turned to address her son. ‘And as such she can have no attraction for you, Gerald.’

‘Devil a bit!’ responded Gerald, grinning. ‘Just trying to be friendly, Mama.’

‘Better that you should remain aloof, like your cousin,’ retorted Lady Charlotte.

‘What, be as grim as Rosthorne?’ Gerald laughed. ‘Impossible! I swear his dark frown could turn the milk sour!’

Nathan allowed himself a smile at that. ‘Try for something in between, then, Cousin.’

‘Precisely.’ Lady Charlotte nodded. ‘You must remember your breeding, my son.’

As the carriage pulled away Gerald threw a rueful glance across at Nathan. ‘When am I ever allowed to forget it?’

‘So. It is done. I have met him.’

Felicity closed the door of her little bedchamber and leaned against it. Her legs felt very unsteady, so much so that she dare not even attempt to walk across the room to her bed. She closed her eyes. Nathan’s image rose before her, so familiar, so dear. She had studied him closely while the two carriages were stopped. In profile she thought him even more handsome than when they had first met, his face leaner, his look more serious. Even when she saw again the scar across the left side of his face she was no longer horrified by it. She was thankful the dreadful disfigurement did not seem to have affected his sight; his eyes were as keen as ever and for a moment she had quailed beneath her thick veil, convinced that he would recognise her. Even worse than the fear of detection was the fierce disappointment she had known when he had addressed her; he was clearly unaware of her identity and his indifference hit her like a physical blow.