Four Regency Rogues

‘The late Earl abandoned it.’

‘He was ill, Miss Cartwright. The worry of it…’ He stopped; he did not want to pursue that argument. ‘I wanted to ask you, since you seem to know the family well, has anything been done to cure Tommy of his deafness?’

‘I do not think so. I think they are all resigned to the fact that he will never hear and he does marvellously well with a few signs and facial expressions.’

‘Yes, I saw that.’

‘He has an old ear trumpet someone gave him, but he does not use it. It is almost as big as he is and is too much trouble carrying around when he wants to play.’

‘But one day he will have to work.’

‘If he finds nothing else, I will employ him. Being deaf might be a positive advantage in a room full of clattering looms.’

‘Yes, and a more dangerous occupation for a child I cannot imagine.’

She had spoken without thinking, almost as if there was a little devil sitting on her shoulder goading her into making outrageous remarks, just to see what he would say, and she had been hoist on her own petard. ‘I do not like employing children, my lord, but if I did not, my business would sink without trace and that would mean the adults would be without work too, not only in the mill, but those who work the barges, the crew of the Fair Charlie, even the servants and outdoor workers at Mandeville. It is the lesser of two evils.’

‘So it may be, but children should be allowed to enjoy their childhood for as long as they can.’

‘I do not disagree with that, but needs must when the devil drives.’ Why, when she was in his company, did she make herself sound harder than she really was? Why compound the bad impression he already had of her? It was a question of pride, she supposed, pride and stubbornness.

‘Nevertheless, I should like to see what can be done for the boy. I have come across deafness among soldiers due to the noise of the battlefield and it is a considerable disadvantage to them. There was a medical officer with our regiment who interested himself in deafness, and he was teaching them to communicate with signs.’

‘Tommy already does that.’

‘Yes, but this is more formal. By using the same standard, deaf people can communicate with others…’

‘Who must also learn the same signs.’

‘Yes. But if Tommy’s mother and siblings were to learn it, they could translate what he is saying.’

‘A laudable, if ambitious, idea, my lord, but who is to provide the teaching?’

‘That I need to discover. Do you think Mr and Mrs Biggs would agree, if I should find someone prepared to do it?’ His expression was serious, but by no means malevolent; there was nothing of the objectionable man who had insisted Browhill was his. Beware! the imp on her shoulder warned her.

‘I am sure they would like to see him overcome his affliction, my lord, but Mr Biggs is a proud man and hates to be beholden to charity. I have to take my little contribution for their comfort when he is not at home or he would throw it in my face.’

‘I thought that as the family’s welfare interests you, you might use your influence to persuade them.’

On the surface his suggestion was a simple one, but underneath she detected undercurrents she did not know how to deal with. But how could she say no? How could she refuse anything to improve the lot of the villagers? It was the squire’s prerogative to do that, of course, but the old Earl had done nothing and after they had moved to the dower house, the Countess had hardly been out and about at all. Charlotte had taken it upon herself to distribute largesse and give employment, and she had taken the Biggs family to her heart. ‘You are asking for my help?’

‘Yes.’

‘But we are…’

‘Sworn enemies?’ It was said with a crooked smile.

‘No, but we are in litigation.’

‘Then let the lawyers get on with it. They will take an age and in the meantime there is work to be done.’

‘That is very philosophical of you, my lord.’

‘So?’

‘Naturally, I will do all I can to help. But it is not just Tommy Biggs—you are needed by everyone in the village who has been waiting on your coming, hoping their lives will improve.’

He knew that and did not like it being pointed out to him, but he had made up his mind not to quarrel with her. To have two influential people warring in a small village would not make for harmony. ‘I hope they will, Miss Cartwright. I am making a beginning.’

‘And if the task proves too much, will you disappear again, back to the war and your comrades?’

‘Ah,’ he said, laughing. ‘I knew you wished me other-where.’

She refused to be drawn by that. ‘I read in the latest despatches that Lord Wellington is outside Bordeaux and the allies in the north are marching on Paris. Does that mean the war will soon be over?’

He might have known she would keep abreast of the news by reading the papers. ‘Let us hope so.’

‘And then the army will come home. The soldiers will need to find work.’

‘Those that are not sent to America or other conflicts will be discharged and will certainly need gainful employment. I am thankful that I have something to come home to.’

‘And different battles to fight,’ she said with a smile.

He laughed. ‘Battles I shall win, Miss Cartwright.’

She did not answer because they had arrived at the gates of the Hall. He halted and turned towards her, doffing his hat. ‘Here we must part. Good day to you, Miss Cartwright. I will let you know what I can discover about the deaf teacher.’ He sprang into the saddle before she could reply and cantered up the weed-infested drive.

‘We shall see,’ she murmured to herself, as she continued on her way. ‘We shall see.’

Lady Brandon, full of self-importance, delivered Charlotte’s invitation to her soirée herself two days later and was taken aback when Charlotte said she did not think she would go. ‘What have you against the man?’ her ladyship asked.

Charlotte was certainly not going to tell her. ‘I find him top-lofty in the extreme.’

‘Goodness, he has a right to be proud. He is an Earl, after all. I found him very civil and he has such an amiable manner. When we called on the Countess to ask her what she thought about a little soirée in his honour, his lordship arrived while we were there and he was politeness itself…’

‘Who is “we”?’

‘Lady Gilford, Mrs Trent and I. We asked him directly and, though the Countess declined on account of being in mourning, he was pleased to accept. You know, if he manages to come about, he will be the catch of the year. It will be amusing to watch all the mamas buzzing round him, trying to catch his eye.’

Charlotte smiled to herself. She had no doubt that Lady Brandon herself was one such mama. Poor Martha would be pushed and pulled and goaded to make herself agreeable to his lordship. It would be interesting to see how successful she would be.

‘You will come, won’t you?’ her ladyship went on. ‘If you do not, people will gossip and that would look ill, do you not think?’

Charlotte considered this for a moment and decided that gossip about why she was not pleased to see Roland Temple come home was something she could do without. ‘I suppose you could be right. Very well, I will come.’

Her ladyship clapped her hands. ‘Good. I want the occasion to be perfect. I want everyone to say it could never be bettered.’

‘I thought it was only to be a simple soirée.’

‘Oh, we can do better than that. Now I must leave you, I have much to do to have everything ready in time. I look forward to seeing you on Saturday.’ And with that she took her leave.

Charlotte spent some time considering what to wear and finally decided on her brand-new gown. It was amber, deeper than gold, but not quite brown, with a rounded neckline and puffed sleeves and finished with coffee-coloured lace at the hem and a matching ribbon under her bust.

On the evening of the soirée, Meg, her maid, discreetly powdered Charlotte’s face to subdue the tan, and dressed her hair in a Grecian style which even the usually modest Charlotte agreed made her look well. She had a drawer full of expensive jewellery which she never wore, but tonight she picked out a pearl necklace given to her by her papa on her twenty-first birthday. Taking up a matching silk shawl, a chicken-skin fan and a small beaded reticule, she went downstairs and out to her carriage.

The affair at Scofield Place, put about as a simple soirée, had grown out of all proportion. Anyone who was anyone in the county had been invited and had accepted. The food, produced by outside caterers, was sumptuous and would have fed a poor family for a year, if its taste were to run to the rare dishes, rich sauces and exotic fruits that weighed down the table in the wainscoted dining room. There were flowers and an orchestra and hired footmen in livery.

Lady Brandon, clad in a full-skirted gown of burgundy taffeta, which made her look rounder than ever, took both Charlotte’s hands and looked her up and down. ‘My dear, you look lovely. I would never have attempted that colour myself, but I do declare it becomes you.’ Sir Gordon, in a black superfine evening coat and matching breeches with white stockings, made her a bow and said she looked very well.

There was a huge crush in the large drawing room, stripped of its carpet and furniture, where an orchestra played for dancing, though that could hardly be heard above the noise of conversation as friend greeted friend and everyone enquired of everyone else if the Earl had arrived.

‘I was right,’ Lady Brandon told Charlotte triumphantly. ‘The Earl is like to be the catch of the season. Just look at Dorothea Manton preening herself like a peacock, as if she were not already well and truly on the shelf, and if Mrs Barnard thinks he will take any notice of her plain Jane, then she is a greater fribble than I took her for. Why, our Martha has a better chance of being noticed than any of them.’

Charlotte did not think these comments required an answer; besides, she was too busy looking round herself. If his lordship were looking for a bride with a good dowry, then he was unlikely to find her here. Dorothea Manton’s parents were well bred, it was true, but like many aristocrats, they lived outside their means. Faith Trent’s dowry would certainly not suffice if the point of the exercise was to refurbish Amerleigh Hall. The same could be said of almost everyone else in the room. Charlotte smiled to herself; she was the only one with sufficient resources and she was the only one who would not drop the handkerchief for him. She became aware that the murmur of voices had died and everyone was looking towards the door, where Roland Temple, Earl of Amerleigh, had just arrived.

He stood inches taller than any other man present, dressed in a black evening suit, relieved by a pale blue embroidered waistcoat and snowy white cravat, skilfully tied. His dark curls had been trimmed into the latest windswept style and barely touched the high collar of his coat. Unlike the other men in the room, he wore no jewellery, but he did not need it. No one could deny he had a commanding presence and there was a concerted sigh from the ladies. His physical attraction was so strong and his character so compelling, he could, if she were the susceptible kind, make Charlotte go weak at the knees and forget they were mortal enemies.

Lady Brandon hurried to greet him and proceeded to lead him round the room, introducing him to those he had not met before and reminding him of others he might have remembered from his boyhood. He bowed and smiled and passed on to the next, convinced that everyone who was anyone in Shropshire must surely be crammed into the room in all their finery for his benefit and he wished it were otherwise. If they had been giving him a true welcome, he would not have minded, but he knew most of it was curiosity to see if he would do something outrageous and confirm their worst fears. And if he did not, if he turned out to be perfectly abstemious and polite, then every mama of an unattached female would work herself silly to have her daughter noticed.

He smiled quirkily as he bowed over Dorothea Gilford’s hand, which made that poor child blush to the roots of her mousy hair. And it was not as if the smile was directed at her, but his own stupidity for allowing himself to become a party to it. He moved on quickly to the next group, noticing that the next in line was Miss Cartwright. So used to seeing and picturing the hoyden, he was completely taken aback by her changed appearance and for a moment could not pay attention to Lady Brandon. Pulling himself together, he murmured a greeting to the couple to whom he was being introduced and then moved on to Charlotte. Standing before her, he was obliged to amend his original perception of her—she was not plain at all. Here was a beautiful woman with the figure of a goddess. Even her wild hair had been tamed. He swept her a flourishing bow. ‘Good evening, Miss Cartwright.’

‘Good evening, my lord.’ She was fully aware of the effect she was having on him and it gave her a wonderful sense of gratification as she dipped a slight curtsy. She would teach him to call her plain and a hoyden!

He did not want to move on, but Lady Brandon was already approaching the next group and he had perforce to follow. It was not until he had perambulated round the entire room, smiling at the young ladies, kissing the hands of the matrons and bowing to their husbands, that he was able to relax a little. And even then it was not for long.

The orchestra struck up a country dance and he was induced to join a set with Miss Jane Trent. And after that it was another dance and another young lady and then another and he was just about to make his way over to Miss Cartwright when he became aware of Miss Brandon standing only a few feet away and looking at him, half-shy, half-expectantly. He bowed. ‘Miss Brandon, will you do me the honour of joining this country dance with me?’

She smiled and curtsied and he raised her to her feet and led her into the dance. But his thoughts were on the other side of the room where Charlotte stood beside Lady Brandon.

‘They make a comely pair, do they not?’

‘Who?’

‘Why, Martha and the Earl, of course. He is bound to look favourably on her, considering I have been at such pains to make him welcome.’

Charlotte watched the two dancers. The Earl was smiling down at Martha and had obviously paid her a compliment, for she was smiling back at him, eyes shining. It gave Charlotte an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she could not explain. ‘You think he will offer for her?’

‘I do not see why not. We will bring him round to it. She will make a splendid Countess.’

‘Yes, but Amerleigh Hall is in a ruinous state.’

‘Martha has an inheritance from my aunt and she has never had to spend a penny of it, I am thankful to say. It has been growing with interest ever since the old lady died five years ago. Sir Gordon will ensure his lordship is aware of it.’

‘Do you think he would marry for money?’

‘It must be a consideration. If his pockets are to let, it must mean his title is up for sale.’

Her words thrust Charlotte back six years to a time when the late Earl was ready to sell the title and Roland had refused absolutely to consider her. It stiffened her resolve; she would make him pay for that humiliation in whatever way came to hand.

‘I think he will make an excellent husband,’ her ladyship continued, unaware that Charlotte was no longer giving her full attention. ‘I have been hearing fine reports of him.’

‘From his servant, no doubt.’

‘From everyone. Why are you so against him?’

‘I am not against him. I have no interest in his affairs. I was thinking of Martin Elliott. I am sure he has hopes of Martha.’

‘Pooh, what is he? Nothing but a parson’s son and he hasn’t even found a living yet.’

Charlotte felt sorry for the poor man, but she refrained from saying so, because the dance had ended and the Earl was escorting Martha to them, smiling and speaking to her in what, to the highly sensitised mamas, was a most intimate fashion. The roomful of people watched their progress and sighed, many with disappointment.

He thanked Martha with an elegant leg, surreptitiously looking sideways at Charlotte as he did so, but she would not look at him, being engrossed in examining her fan.

‘My lord,’ Lady Brandon said. ‘It is gratifying to see you mingle with us all so amiably. We are glad to have you among us again.’

‘That is very kind of you, my lady.’ There was a pause which to Charlotte, still studying the picture of a shepherdess and her swain on her fan, seemed interminable, before he added, ‘Miss Cartwright, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?’

She looked up at him, fluttering her fan, as if she had only just discovered what the accessory was meant for.

‘Come.’ He was holding out his hand.

She stood up and put her hand into his and allowed him to draw her onto the floor for a waltz.

Waltzing had been in favour for two or three years in the capital, but had only recently been considered a suitable dance for the country. Lady Brandon was being greatly daring in asking the musicians to play for one, but she was determined that no one should think her behind the times and it might give the company some indication of whom his lordship might favour. And he had picked out Charlotte Cartwright! She was beginning to wish she had not tried so hard to induce Charlotte to come.

The warmth of his hand on her back through the thin silk of her gown seemed to spread right through Charlotte until she was quite breathless. For a big man, he was surprisingly light on his feet and she found herself wondering where he had learned to dance in that expert way, for he guided her unerringly. And for the first time in her life, she did not regret those dancing lessons. She chose not to notice that Lady Gilford and many of the other matrons were murmuring among themselves, nor the dagger looks of the young ladies who had hoped to catch his eye; she was immune to everything but the enjoyment of the dance, of doing something she had not done for years. Six years, in fact—the last time she had danced with him. She wondered if he remembered it.

The music came to an end with a triumphant flourish and Charlotte dropped into a deep curtsy. He bowed and took her hand to raise her up and then offered his arm to escort her back to her place and they found themselves the target of all eyes as they made their way slowly down the length of the room. She felt she had to make an effort at conversation, something safe, something not contentious.

‘Have you made any progress about a teacher for Tommy?’ she asked.

‘I have made one or two enquiries, but so far nothing definite. With the war coming to an end, the medical officer I spoke of might be coming home and I might wait to see what he has to say.’

‘If he is used to working with soldiers, he may not wish to teach a child.’

‘Then he will not be the man we want and we must find someone else.’

‘We, my lord?’

‘You and I, young Tommy and his parents.’

‘You include me?’

‘Of course. You are very necessary to the success of the project.’

She laughed. ‘Could it be that the help you need from me is monetary?’

‘Not at all,’ he said huffily. ‘I am sorry I mentioned it. I might have known you would reduce everything to pounds, shillings and pence.’

‘Pounds, shillings and pence are very useful things to have, my lord.’

‘Is that all you can think of? Do you have no heart?’

‘What has my heart to do with anything? It is a beating organ, necessary to life, just as yours is.’ That little imp was on her shoulder again, making her say outrageous things, egging her on to produce a reaction out of him.

‘True, but sometimes it can beat a little faster, someone says something or does something that sets it pounding. Have you never had that happen to you, Miss Cartwright?’ He paused to look down at her and she felt the colour flare into her face and, what was more, her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen. She was sure he could hear it.

‘That is neither here nor there. We were talking of Tommy and how he could be helped.’

‘By all means, let us talk of Tommy.’

‘I doubt a trained teacher would consider teaching one child a full-time task.’

‘Perhaps not. But it set me wondering how many other deaf children there are in the neighbourhood.’

‘I have no idea. Several I should think. You surely do not intend to teach them all. You would need premises and equipment and specialist teachers. It could not be done on half a crown.’

She was referring to the half-crown he had given to Beth Biggs, he knew. She never let slip an opportunity to have a prod at him. ‘I know, but it is worth a try, don’t you think?’

He did not know why he was even asking her. He did not need her permission or co-operation. The trouble was he had not been able to banish her from his thoughts. She was like an itch he could not scratch and yet this evening he had truly enjoyed her company. She made everyone else seem flat and colourless.

‘Then rest assured, I will do what I can to help.’ She paused. ‘But that does not mean I have changed my mind about Browhill.’

‘I did not expect you would,’ he said with a faint smile, still unable to believe her transformation from hoyden to beauty. ‘But we will leave that for another day. For the moment we can enjoy the respite of a truce.’

‘Speaking of truces, do you think Napoleon can hold out much longer?’ She had to say something, to make everything sound commonplace and polite, to maintain her dignity when every fibre of her wanted to thrash out at him, make her see her for what she really was, a person in her own right, not simply the daughter of her father. Why that mattered she did not know.

He recognised the change of subject as a way of diverting him from personal issues. ‘Let us hope not, but he has so far refused all offers of peace.’

‘Do you wish you could be with your comrades when they finally triumph?’

‘In one way. On the other hand, I would not, at this moment, wish to be anywhere else.’

She must not allow herself to become susceptible to his flattery, she told herself, especially as she knew it was far from sincere. ‘I know you are needed here in Amerleigh with your people, my lord,’ she said, choosing to misunderstand him. ‘But coming back to England must have been a wrench for you just when you were so close to victory.’

‘It was necessary and if I could be sure of my welcome…’

She waved her hand at the crowded room. ‘Tonight must have given you the answer to that.’

‘It is gratifying, I own, but I find myself wondering how much of that is down to my being the Earl of Amerleigh and unmarried and how much to the returning soldier.’

‘Time will tell,’ she said, as they reached the end of the room.

He bowed and, taking her hand, put it to his lips, at the same time raising his eyes to hers. For a moment she could not look away and felt herself being drawn towards him, though she had not moved. Almost mesmerised, his eyes held hers. She thought she detected a message in their dark depths. Something like, ‘I enjoy sparring with you, but we are not enemies, are we? We could be friends. More than friends.’ Was he flirting with his eyes? Or was she being fanciful? And it came to her very suddenly that if she could encourage him, even make him love her, and then disdain him, that would be sweet revenge indeed! The trouble was she had no idea how to go about it. She had always been forthright and truthful, even if her hearers did not like what they heard. She could not be anything else. She snatched her hand away, making him smile.

He saw her to her seat, then took up a station near the door where a potted plant half-concealed him and from where he could watch the assembly, and particularly Miss Charlotte Cartwright. How could you dislike a woman you found desirable? And she was desirable, too much so for his peace of mind.