The Earl's Runaway Bride

‘But it is done,’ she said again. ‘Now I have seen him I know what to expect, I am prepared.’

However, being prepared did not prevent her from feeling slightly sick when Sir James announced cheerfully that she would be required to accompany his wife to Lady Somerton’s later that night.

‘I know I promised to attend, but I have fallen behind with drawing up my plans for Tsar Alexander’s arrival in London—I gave my word that I would report to Carlton House tomorrow morning.’

‘Then you must remain here and finish them,’ replied Lydia calmly. ‘But there is not the slightest need for Felicity to come with me: Lady Somerton is such an old friend…’

Felicity felt Sir James’s eyes upon her and she said immediately, ‘There is nothing I should like more than to go with you, Lady Souden.’

Lydia blinked. ‘You would?’

‘Of course,’ Felicity lied valiantly. ‘You will recall you showed me Lady Somerton’s invitation and said she hoped that Lord Byron would be there and would read for her.’

‘But I thought you disliked Byron,’ objected Lydia.

‘His style of living, perhaps,’ Felicity persisted. ‘His poetry is quite—quite impressive.’

Her friend looked at her in surprise. Felicity maintained her calm, aware that Sir James was also regarding her, but with approval, and she drew some comfort from this as she ran upstairs after dinner to change her gown. And what if Nathan should be there? Felicity knew this question would be on Lydia’s lips as soon as they were alone together. She had no answer, and could only pray that the earl was not a lover of poetry.

Lady Somerton’s tall, narrow town house was crowded and noisy. Felicity followed Lydia as she swept up the stairs to the main reception rooms, ostrich feathers dancing, and was immediately surrounded by her friends and acquaintances. Felicity stayed very close. In her plain grey gown she elicited barely a glance from the gentlemen vying for the beautiful Lady Souden’s attention and no glance at all from the matrons who came up to claim acquaintance with one of the most fashionable personages of the ton.

Lady Somerton laughingly chided Lydia for arriving so late and ushered them into a large salon where the poetry reading was about to begin. Felicity followed on, but such was the crush that she was unable to secure a seat beside her friend and was obliged to find a space for herself towards the back of the room. This suited her very well, for she was able to observe the crowds from the shadowy recesses.

Any hopes that Nathan might not attend were soon dashed when she saw him stroll into the room. At first she thought it was her imagination that there was a change in the atmosphere as he entered, but there was a definite murmur of excitement rippling around the salon. A young lady to her right fluttered her fan and muttered, ‘Mama! The Earl of Rosthorne is come.’

‘Then stand up straight, Maria,’ retorted her turbaned parent. ‘You will not catch his attention if you slouch. Shoulders back, my love; he is surveying the company.’

The young lady plied her fan even faster. ‘Oh, Mama, he looks so severe, I vow he frightens me!’

‘Nonsense, child, it is merely the effect of that dreadful scar. Smile now…Oh, how vexing, Lady Somerton is carrying him off. Never mind, Maria, while he is in the room there is still hope. Keep your head up. And do not squint, girl! You will need all your wits about you if you wish to become a countess.’

A cold chill settled around Felicity’s heart. Was that the reason Nathan was in town, to find a wife? Why should he not? she asked herself miserably. She had done her best to disappear, doubtless he had forgotten her in the inevitable confusion of removing the army and its followers from Corunna.

The evening dragged on. Felicity heard very little of the poetry—her attention was fixed on Nathan. At one point he looked around, as if conscious of her gaze, and she was obliged to draw back into the shadows. When there was a break in the recital Felicity noticed that he was immediately surrounded by ladies, all eager for his attention. The turbaned matron lost no time in joining the throng and was soon presenting him to her daughter. Felicity longed for it to be her hand he was carrying to his lips, her words that made him smile. She forced herself to look away. It would do her no good to dwell on what could never be.

She spotted Lydia at the centre of a laughing, chattering group of ladies and seeing that she was as far from Nathan as the room would allow, Felicity made her way across to her. Lady Souden looked up as she approached, excused herself with her charming smile and stepped away from the group to take Felicity’s arm.

‘Well, my dear, what do you think to it?’ Lydia giggled. ‘I have rarely heard such execrable verse, I think.’

‘Was it so very bad? I was not really listening…’

‘Dreadful, my dear,’ Lydia murmured, smiling across the room at their hostess. ‘Rosthorne is here, have you seen him?’

Felicity almost laughed at that. She had eyes for no one else!

‘Yes. By staying in the shadows he has not noticed me.’

‘But you are uneasy.’ Lydia patted her hands. ‘Shall we make our excuses and leave? If Lord Byron had been here I might have made a push to stay and be sociable but as it is, I think I would prefer to be at home with darling James.’

Felicity nodded. She looked across the room at Nathan. She would have liked to stay and prolong the torture of watching him, but she knew that was senseless, so with a word of acquiescence she turned and followed Lydia out of the room.

They were in the entrance hall, waiting for their carriage when Lydia reached over and deftly flicked up the hood of Felicity’s cloak.

‘Cover yourself,’ she murmured. ‘Rosthorne is coming.’ She gave Felicity’s shoulder a reassuring pat before turning. ‘My lord.’

Felicity stepped behind Lydia and out of Nathan’s direct gaze.

‘Going so soon, madam?’

‘Why, yes, my lord.’ Lydia gave him her charming smile. ‘I find a little poetry goes a long way.’

The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘Well said, ma’am! I expected to see Sir James with you.’

‘Unfortunately his work on plans for the Tsar’s entertainment would not allow him time to come with me this evening. I have no doubt that when we get back we shall find him still poring over his notes.’

‘Well, ma’ am, if you have no escort, you must let me accompany you to Berkeley Square—’

Lydia gave a little laugh. ‘I would not dream of taking you away from Lady Somerton, my lord.’

‘If your opinion of the readings this evening is the same as mine, you will know that I welcome the distraction.’

The boyish grin that accompanied the words was like a physical blow to Felicity. Nathan suddenly looked so much younger, so much more like the handsome hero of her dreams.

‘But I will not hear of it,’ Lydia was saying to him. ‘We have our footmen and link boys, so I need not trouble you, my lord.’

‘It will be no trouble at all,’ replied Lord Rosthorne, walking to the door beside her. ‘In fact, it suits me very well, for I need to see Sir James and it is so early that I am sure he will not object to my disturbing him. Therefore I will come with you—I beg your pardon, Miss Brown, did you say something?’

‘She coughed,’ said Lydia quickly. ‘But really, my lord, there is no need—’

‘Madam, I insist.’ Nathan held out his arm and after a brief hesitation Lydia placed her fingers upon his arm and allowed him to escort her to the waiting carriage. Felicity followed closely. She was aware of an unnerving and quite illogical temptation to reach out and cling to the skirts of Nathan’s black evening coat.

Nathan had been quite sincere in his assurances. He was glad of an excuse to quit Lady Somerton’s soirée. He had never intended to remain there for long, and if by escorting Lady Souden to her home he could have five minutes’ conversation with Sir James it would save him time in the morning.

He handed Lady Souden into the carriage then turned to her companion. The little hand in its kid glove trembled beneath his fingers but that did not surprise him; Miss Brown seemed to be a very nervous person. She did not even lift her head to thank him as he helped her into the coach.

The journey to Berkeley Square was short and Lady Souden kept up a flow of conversation to which Nathan willingly responded, although he found his attention straying to her companion, sitting quietly in the corner. Even enveloped in her cloak there was something familiar about the way she held herself. Who was she? Why did he feel that he should know her?

He thought of the women he had met during his days with Wellington’s army and a silent laugh shook him. Perhaps one of the lightskirts he had known had come to England and decided to turn respectable. They would be very likely to take an innocuous name such as Brown! He glanced again at the little figure sitting bolt upright by the window. No, that was not the answer. His instinct told him the chit was no straw damsel. From what he had seen of her, she behaved more like a nun.

Nathan realised Lady Souden was still talking to him, and he broke into her nervous chatter to say with a touch of impatience, ‘I fear my presence makes you uncomfortable, ma’am.’

‘No—no, not at all,’ stammered Lady Souden.

‘Be assured that I have no intention of stepping beyond the bounds of propriety. Besides, you have Miss Brown here to act as your chaperon.’

‘Oh—no, no, you misunderstand me, my lord,’ Lady Souden stammered. ‘If—if I seem a little anxious, it is because—because I have a headache!’

Nathan was thankful for the dark interior of the carriage, for he was sure his scepticism was evident in his face. Something was upsetting Lady Souden, but if she wished to lie to him rather than explain, then so be it. He had long ago given up trying to understand women.

‘I am sorry to hear it,’ he replied quietly. ‘But if that is the case, perhaps we should not talk for the remainder of the journey.’

The uncomfortable silence that ensued was mercifully short. When they arrived in Berkeley Square, Nathan lost no time in handing down Lady Souden and escorting her to the door, where she thanked him prettily enough for his trouble. As soon as she had directed a footman to take him to Sir James, she grabbed her companion’s hand and hurried away.

Felicity said nothing as Lydia almost pulled her up the stairs and into her luxurious apartments. As soon as she was sure they were alone, Lydia leaned against the closed door and let out a long sigh.

‘Of all the unfortunate circumstances! When Rosthorne insisted upon coming with us I did not know where to look.’

‘That was quite apparent,’ replied Felicity, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I have never seen you so flustered.’

Lydia shook her head wearily. ‘Oh, Fee, I cannot like this! Rosthorne is not a man I like to deceive. Will you not call an end to this charade?’

Felicity put back her hood. ‘I cannot, Lydia. You know I cannot.’ She turned away, her head bowed as she struggled with the strings of her cloak. Too much had happened that neither of them could forgive. She sighed. ‘I am dead to him. It is better that way.’

Lydia swung her around, saying fiercely, ‘No, it is not! You have not given him a chance to explain himself.’

‘There is nothing to explain. He was desperately in love with another woman.’ Felicity shook off her hands. ‘He has forgotten me. Let it be, Lydia, it is over.’

‘If you do not wish to tell him then there is an end to it. But I do not see how you can maintain this subterfuge. The earl is not a fool, he will recognise you eventually.’

Felicity sighed. ‘If I am very careful he need never know I am here.’ A sad little smile pulled at her mouth. ‘After all, there are plenty of pretty young ladies to distract him.’

‘Then you must go back to Souden. You would be safer there.’

‘But then who would look after you? A poor companion I would be if I deserted you now! No, I shall do my duty, Lydia, and accompany you whenever Sir James is not available. After all, I am not likely to see Lord Rosthorne so very often: Sir James will be at your side for most of the balls and concerts you will attend this summer and I may remain safely indoors.’

Lydia did not look completely satisfied with this answer but Felicity was adamant, and at length her friend shrugged.

‘Very well, if you are sure it is what you want,’ she said. ‘Ring the bell, Fee. We will take hot chocolate here in my room. I would like to change out of this gown and go and find Sir James, but Rosthorne may still be with him, and it would look very odd if my headache had disappeared so very quickly!’

An hour later Felicity made her way back to her own apartment. It was not yet midnight, but she felt very tired. The strain of being so close to Nathan had exhausted her, and yet as she lay in her bed thinking over the evening she realised she would not have missed seeing him for the world. It was not without pain, to be sure. He knew her only as Lady Souden’s companion, Miss Brown, and his indifference cut her deeply, but there was some comfort in watching him, in being near him. More comfort than she had felt for the past five years.

As the first grey light of dawn seeped into the master bedroom of Rosthorne House, Nathan threw back the bedcovers and sat up, rubbing his temples. Why, after all this time, should he dream of little Felicity Bourne?

He went to the window and pressed his forehead against the cool glass. The view from his bedroom was a pleasant one, for it overlooked the Green Park but this morning Nathan saw nothing; he was thinking of those hectic days in Corunna five years ago. He had been sent ashore by Sir David Baird to help with the delicate negotiations with the local Spanish junta, trying to persuade them to allow the British troops to disembark. It was slow, frustrating work and it took all his attention—until one day he had turned a corner and seen three men attacking a young woman. Felicity.

She had looked magnificent with her dark gold hair in disarray about her shoulders and her eyes flashing with anger. He summed up the situation in one glance and when they dared to lay hands on her, he intervened. It was a brief tussle and they soon retreated, leaving Nathan to receive his reward, a grateful look from those huge grey eyes.

‘So, madam, where may I escort you?’

‘I do not know. That is, I have no place to stay here in Corunna.’ She paused. ‘I—I need to go to Madrid. I have friends there.’

Nathan hesitated. With no effective government in Spain he would not advise anyone to set out for Madrid without an escort, especially such a fragile little thing as this.

‘After what has just happened perhaps it would not be wise for me to travel alone.’

Her quiet words touched a nerve deep inside him, awaking every chivalrous instinct. It was all he could do not to tell her she need never be alone again. His reaction surprised him and he took a small step away.

‘On no account must you travel out of the city,’ he said decisively.

She turned to him. ‘But what am I to do? I am homeless, penniless—’ she indicated her muddied pelisse ‘—and now I am not even presentable.’

‘Hookham Frere, the British Envoy, will be setting out for Madrid in the next few days,’ said Nathan. ‘I have no doubt that he would be happy for you to travel with his party. Will you allow me to escort you to him?’

The relief in her face was evident. ‘Thank you, yes, that would be very kind of you.’

Nathan gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He had little experience of dealing with delicately reared young ladies and this one unsettled him. The sooner he could pass her over to the relative safety of the diplomatic party the better. He held out his arm again and hesitantly she laid her gloved hand on his sleeve. He noted idly that her head barely reached his shoulder.

‘How comes it that you are separated from your friends, Miss Bourne?’

‘Oh, as to that I…’ Her words trailed off. He felt the weight of her on his arm.

‘Miss Bourne, are you ill?’

‘I beg your pardon, I—that is, I have not eaten for a few days…’

She was near to collapse. Nathan quickly revised his plans.

‘If you can walk a little further, I have lodgings near here in the Canton Grande. Allow me to take you there, and when you are fed and rested we will continue.’

A slight nod was the only answer he received. He put his arm around her and led her through the narrow streets to a neat house whose wide door and shuttered window sheltered beneath a mirador, an upper-floor balcony completely enclosed by glass panels. He saw his man sitting in the doorway, smoking his pipe.

‘Sam, run and fetch Señora Benitez!’

‘Now that I can’t do, Major,’ Sam replied slowly. ‘She’s gone to stay with ’er daughter for a couple o’days. She told you so herself, this morning, if you remember.’

‘Damnation, so she did.’

Felicity gave a little moan and collapsed against him. Swiftly he lifted her into his arms. She was surprisingly light, and fitted snugly against his heart. Something stirred within him.

‘And just what have we here, sir?’ asked Sam, jabbing his pipe at Felicity.

Nathan allowed himself a swift, wry smile. ‘A damsel in distress, Sam. Go ahead of me and open the door, man.’

‘You ain’t never going to put her in your room!’

‘Where the devil do you expect me to put her?’

‘Well, there’s always the nuns…’

‘No.’ Nathan’s arms tightened around her. He remembered the look in her eyes when she had turned to him. It was a mixture of trust and dependence and something more, a connection that he could not explain, but neither could he ignore it. ‘No,’ he said again. ‘I shall look after her.’

Chapter Three

‘Well my love, you can be easy now,’ said Lydia at breakfast a few days later. ‘James and Rosthorne have gone off to Dover to meet the royal visitors and bring them back to London. The Prince is planning a royal procession through the town to St James’s Palace and James has hired rooms for us overlooking the route, so we will be able to watch the procession in comfort.’

Felicity received the news with mixed feelings. She should be relieved that there was no possibility of meeting Nathan for a while, instead she was disappointed.

‘Will Sir James and the earl be riding in the procession?’ She tried to sound indifferent but she blushed when she looked up and found Lydia smiling at her.

‘Yes they will. James tells me the Prince has insisted that Rosthorne should wear his dress uniform: he will look so dashing that I am sure all the ladies will be swooning over him.’

Felicity scowled into her coffee cup.

‘Let them swoon,’ she muttered. ‘I am sure I do not care!’

But when the day arrived Felicity could not deny a frisson of excitement as she and Lydia sat in the window of the hired room.

‘People have been gathering since dawn,’ remarked Lydia. ‘Everyone is eager to see the Emperor. They have even erected stands along the route, but I doubt that even they will have such a fine view as this.’

There was a sudden stir in the crowds below.

‘They are coming,’ declared Lydia, leaning towards the open window.

Felicity could hear the rattle of drums. A cheer went up as the cavalcade approached, a long column of bright colours and nodding plumes. Felicity watched, fascinated by the never-ending ranks of soldiers and dignitaries passing beneath her.

‘There’s Prinny!’ cried Lydia, pointing. ‘And that must be the Prussian King.’

Felicity looked down at the upright, soldierly figure in his topboots and white pantaloons. He looked very serious, but she could not help thinking that was much more regal than the portly Prince Regent. Lydia grabbed her arm.

‘Look, there’s James!’ She waved her handkerchief wildly at a group of riders following the royal party and was rewarded when Sir James looked up and raised his hat to her. ‘Oh, he is so handsome. And he looks so well on horseback, does he not?’

Felicity murmured a reply. She was searching the colourful columns, eager to catch a glimpse of Nathan. What had Sir James said about their escort duties? Nathan was to accompany the Emperor of Russia.

‘I have not yet seen the Tsar,’ she murmured, her eyes raking the crowds.

‘Perhaps he is gone another way.’ Lydia laughed. ‘I would not be surprised if his sister has told him to come direct to her at the Pulteney Hotel. James says she has taken a dislike to the Prince Regent!’

Felicity was aware of a searing disappointment and berated herself fiercely. For five long years she had resolutely tried to forget Nathan Carraway—now he was out of her sight for just a few days and she was pining for him! She stared out at the colourful cavalcade passing beneath the window and made a decision. She would speak to him. At the very next opportunity she would reveal herself to Nathan. She would watch his reaction carefully; if he wanted nothing to do with her then she would ask Lydia to send her back to Souden and she would do her best to make a life for herself without Nathan Carraway. But perhaps, just perhaps…She hugged herself, trying not to fan the tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished. Whatever was decided, surely it would be better than this half-life she was living at present? Beside her, Lydia gave a little tut of exasperation.

‘It does not look as if the Tsar is going to appear. How tiresome! But we shall discover the truth tonight.’ Lydia sighed. ‘Such a lot of new faces, and James will expect me to know them all, for he will be inviting them to our ball! Well, Fee, my dependence is upon you to remember them, so that you can prompt me if I forget their names!’

‘So, James, what happened? Where was the Tsar?’ Lydia drew her husband into her private sitting room. ‘It is no good telling me you have been ordered to dine at Carlton House; you are not leaving until you tell us everything. Is that not so, Felicity?’

‘If you could spare us five minutes, Sir James, we would be grateful.’

Her calm tone belied her impatience to know why Nathan had not been in the procession. Sir James allowed himself to be pulled down on to a sofa beside his wife.

‘Oh, very well. So you and Miss Brown watched the proceedings, did you?’

Lydia shook his arm. ‘You know very well we did, sir, for you saw us there when you rode past. But what happened to the Tsar?’

‘Aye, well…’ Sir James shook his head. ‘We made good progress coming up from Dover. There were people lining the streets and hanging out of upstairs windows, all cheering, but the crowds were so thick as we came into London that the royals grew nervous.’ He tried and failed to hide his grin. ‘They ain’t used to the mob, you see. All the people wanted to do was to cheer their heroes, unbuckle the horses and draw the carriages through the streets themselves, but the sovereigns didn’t want it. Then someone took a pot-shot at the Tsar.’

‘No!’

‘Yes, my love. Only the shot went wide and hit Rosthorne instead.’

‘Was—was he badly hurt?’ Felicity asked, her hands straying to her cheeks.

Sir James laughed. ‘Not at all, but the bullet took his hat clean off! I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, for he was obliged to set off after the Emperor, who was determined to join his sister.’

‘At the Pulteney.’ Lydia nodded sagely. ‘You said he might do that.’

‘Did I, by heaven?’ exclaimed Sir James. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘What a clever little puss you are to remember that! Well, I hope he’s comfortable there. The Lord Chamberlain, two bands and I don’t know how many others had been waiting since dawn to receive him, then Rosthorne sends a message to say Tsar Alexander came into town by way of the turnpike at Hyde Park Corner and would be staying at the Pulteney. Prinny is as mad as fire, of course, but forced to put on a brave face. That is why I must go now, my love. His Highness is not in the best of moods, so it will not do for me to be late!’