Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

Harriet looked at him gravely.

‘You don’t have to keep up the pretence any longer, my lord,’ she said calmly. ‘Judith cannot hear you. But I must commend you on your excellent performance.’

‘What the—what absurd fancy has got into your head now?’ he groaned, clutching his brow.

‘Thanks to your clever subterfuge, my lord,’ said Harriet, ignoring Sandford’s incredulous expression, ‘Judith has returned home in a happier frame of mind than that with which she arrived. Your part was so well enacted that it prevented her from asking any awkward questions about my—mishap—and for that I am deeply grateful, for I find that I cannot lie to her any longer—whatever your opinion of my talents in that direction!’ Her voice trembled at this point and she looked away.

Sandford sat on the edge of the desk, carefully contemplating Harriet’s averted gaze. Tentatively, he reached out and, taking both her hands in his own, he drew her gently towards him, holding his breath as he felt her initial resistance slip away.

‘Look at me, Harriet,’ he pleaded.

In trepidation, Harriet obeyed and, raising her eyes to meet his, was confused to behold, not the confident gleam of amusement she had expected, but a very shamefaced expression.

‘I don’t know where to start,’ he said, his voice low and hesitant. ‘You said you hated me—I don’t blame you—I hate myself. Please don’t punish me any further!’

‘You called me a witch!’ she said tremulously.

‘Oh, but you are a witch!’ Half-smiling, he lifted one hand and traced his fingers down her cheek. ‘You have bewitched me.’

Harriet dashed his hand away in vexation. ‘You didn’t believe me,’ she cried. ‘Twice—no, three times—you didn’t believe me!’

‘I am a contemptible swine,’ he said, his throat tightening at the memory.

‘You accused me of—of—dreadful things!’ Harriet found that she couldn’t bear the look of anguish in his eyes.

‘I know I deserve to be horsewhipped,’ he choked, his confidence on the verge of destruction.

‘Horses shouldn’t be whipped,’ she whispered, her lips trembling.

‘But I should?’ A flicker of hope had crept into his voice. ‘I didn’t say that, my lord.’ ‘Robert,’ he said fiercely.

Startled, she tried to move away from him, but he still held one hand tightly in his grasp and seemed intent upon recapturing the other.

‘Lord Sandford,’ she protested, weakly, ‘please release me. This is most improper!’

‘Call me Robert,’ he cajoled her, the fire back in his eyes. ‘Then maybe I shall let you go.’

‘Maybe! That’s very poor odds!’ Harriet replied spiritedly.

He put his head on one side as though considering this point, then nodded. ‘True. Call me Robert and I promise not to kiss you. How’s that?’

Scandalised, Harriet struggled to free herself. ‘You wouldn’t dare—you told me that you were no ravisher!’

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ he said coolly. ‘Call me Robert.’

Harriet stopped struggling and regarded him balefully. ‘Well, if it means so much to you—Robert,’ she said, through clenched teeth. ‘Now let me go.’ ‘Say it again—nicely!’

‘Oh, Robert! Robert! Robert! Damn you!’ she exclaimed, without thought for the consequences.

‘Harriet, my love, you are truly magnificent!’ Sandford stood up, swept her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring her squeal of dismay.

‘Stop struggling—otherwise I shall forget myself—that’s better. Now, listen to me, Harriet—please.’

For a moment he stood very quietly, simply holding her against him and, as her eyes crept up to his face, she could see that he had become very serious once more. She didn’t move, somehow content to remain within the circle of his arms, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. At last he spoke.

‘I know that nothing I can say will undo the hurt that I’ve caused you …’ He hesitated, choosing his words with meticulous care. ‘And it is probably of very little interest to you to know that, far from play-acting, I truly believe that I love you.’ She quivered and his arms tightened. ‘Yes, I do. I had begun to hope that you might learn to hold me in similar regard—I admit that I was mad with jealousy and so desperately afraid, my darling, I think I was about to lose my reason. I was ready to commit murder—I know that now. You brought me to my senses when you struck me and I knew instantly that I had been wrong—that the whole thing was clearly a well-executed plot …’

He stopped as Harriet pulled away from him.

‘Why were you so ready to think the worst of me?’ she cried. ‘You refused even to listen to me!’

Sandford grimaced, finding the memory of that episode of his behaviour particularly repugnant.

‘I had found certain items in a clearing near the gate,’ he said, clearing his throat.

‘What items?’ Harriet demanded. ‘And how did they concern me?’

Sandford flushed and shamefacedly fingered his cravat, as though it were suddenly too tight.

‘Your hat and a glove—I recognised them both, of course …’

‘And?’ said Harriet stiffly, aware that something worse was to follow.

‘A gentleman’s pocket flask—it had contained brandy,’ choked the viscount, unwilling to meet her shocked gaze. ‘And a crumpled cravat.’

‘Also a gentleman’s, I take it?’ Harriet’s eyes glittered.

Sandford nodded in dumb resignation.

‘All the signs of a sordid tête-à-tête, in fact?’ Harriet inquired in a deceptively sweet voice. ‘No wonder you didn’t want to listen to me!’

‘You had the smell of brandy on your breath!’ exclaimed Sandford hotly, in his own defence.

‘So that’s what that funny taste was,’ mused Harriet. ‘They must have given it to me after I passed out.’

Chagrined, Sandford reached out for her once more, but she neatly sidestepped him and opened the office door. Swiftly he strode towards it, attempting to block her exit, but she was out into the hallway in a trice.

‘No doubt your parents—who have proved themselves my true friends—have by now provided you with the correct version of that morning’s events,’ she said in a low voice, not wishing to attract March’s attention. ‘And your only excuse for your appalling behaviour is to tell me that you think you love me—well, we obviously have a very different understanding of the meaning of the word “love'', my lord. The man to whom I give my heart will never doubt my word, never assume my guilt—even if confronted with the blackest of evidence—but, most of all, he will be prepared to lay down his life to protect my name and my person and—’ here her voice broke ‘—I shall do likewise for him. You, my lord, are not and will never be that man!’

She turned to leave, but Sandford caught her arm. His face was rigid, his eyes unfathomable.

‘I wish you well in your search for this paragon,’ he grated, ‘although such a pattern of perfection is unlikely to choose you as his mate …’ He stopped, aghast. My God, what am I saying, he thought, horrified at his own words. He let go of Harriet’s arm and bowed stiffly. ‘My apologies, ma’am,’ he said and re-entered the office, closing the door behind him.

For a moment Harriet stood frozen with shock. His damning words, which continued to echo in her ears, had shaken her to the core, for she was obliged to acknowledge that he was right. In spite of her high-flown speech, she was painfully aware that it had been mostly her own impetuous and foolhardy behaviour that had brought her to this stand. From the time she had left her home in Lincolnshire, right up to this very moment, she had insisted upon going her own headstrong way, ignoring advice from all sides, interfering in other people’s lives—people she hardly knew, she realised, her face suddenly scarlet at some of the memories—and presumptuously assuming that she knew what was best for everyone. No gentleman on earth could be expected to regard such conduct with anything but the deepest abhorrence. What might be considered charming in a wayward child was not acceptable in a full-grown female. Would she never learn? she pondered in despair. Time and time again she had disregarded the warnings and now, it seemed, she had reaped the whirlwind and those rash and arrogant words she had so haughtily vaunted would surely return to torment her.

Hot tears welled up into her eyes as she made her way to the foot of the staircase and the sudden blurring of her vision caused her to stumble on the first step. She was aware of a firm hand on her elbow and an anxious March at her side.

‘Miss Harriet?’ His voice was gentle. ‘Are you unwell? Shall I call Rose? Come and sit down for a moment until you recover.’

He led her to a nearby chair and stood uncertainly by, not wishing to exceed his duties but angry that something or someone had upset his little favourite. Ever since that first evening when she had tiptoed nervously down the stairs in her borrowed finery he had felt that she was something special. Always a smile and a kind word for the servants, quick with her thanks for their services and he, for one, had never heard a single complaint pass her lips. He had watched her change from that laughing-eyed, bright-haired angel into a silent shadow of her former self, all in the space of three weeks. One hardly ever heard her spontaneous and infectious laugh these days, he thought morosely, and if that’s what being engaged does for a girl he was damned if he was going to offer for Maudie Hiller. He watched closely, wearing his usual impassive expression, as Harriet composed herself, dabbing at her eyes with the ridiculous piece of lace the ladies called a handkerchief, longing to offer her his own pristine equivalent but knowing that it would be quite overstepping the mark to do so.

‘Thank you, March,’ said Harriet tremulously, rising to her feet. ‘I fear I must be coming down with a cold. I will go up to my room now—if you would be so good as to send Rose to me?’

‘At once, Miss Harriet,’ said the loyal footman. ‘And perhaps a glass of wine—a well-known restorative, so I’m

told?’

‘Thank you, I would be glad of that.’ Harriet nodded, avoiding his eyes.

He watched her walk unsteadily up the stairs and had the most disrespectful urge to ‘pop’ his lordship ‘one on the beak'. Blinking, he moved smartly to the green baize door that led to the lower stairs and delivered his instructions to Rose.

Sandford, meanwhile, had been staring blindly at the sheets of paper in front of him on the desk, unable to believe that he had uttered those unforgivable words.

Any minute now I shall wake up, he thought, praying that he must be in the throes of some dreadful nightmare but, raising his eyes to the window and perceiving the peaceful summer scene beyond, he knew beyond doubt that the whole episode had been only too real.

With a shaking hand he reached for the decanter on the side table and cursed when he saw that it was empty. Damned servants! What did they think they were employed for? He tugged angrily at the bell-rope and waited impatiently for March to appear. Pointing curtly towards the tray, he raised his brows imperiously.

March bowed his head in acquiescence. The fact that the room had been occupied for some considerable time, preventing the carrying out of certain domestic tasks, was no excuse for such laxity, as well he knew and offered no plea in his own defence. He picked up the salver and walked swiftly to the door.

‘Your lordship’s pardon,’ he said, exiting at the double. ‘I shall attend to it at once.’

Sandford eyed the closed door sourly. The whole damned house seemed to be going mad, he thought, quite certain he had sensed hostility in young March’s demeanour. It’s her fault, he concluded savagely, sweeping the papers to one side. She has everybody under her spell, from the lowest boot-boy right up to …

‘Me, confound it!’ he shouted, leaping from his chair. ‘But I won’t have it! I shall leave! I shall go back to London—Paris—anywhere! Put it down, man, and, for God’s sake, get out!’

This last was to March, who had returned with the full decanters. The footman stared at the viscount in open-mouthed astonishment, unable to believe his eyes and ears. Never before had he been spoken to in this manner, not in this house! He carefully set the silver tray down into its appointed place and bowing, with ill-disguised contempt, he left the room once more.

Sandford was astounded. The man was nothing short of insolent, he decided. He’d have him out of here before he could say …! Suddenly, he checked, took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the desk to steady himself, grimacing with shame at this inconceivable lapse. Collapsing limply into his chair, he buried his head in his hands and shuddered in despair.

‘Oh, God, Harriet! Forgive me!’ he whispered brokenly. ‘What am I going to do? The whole world is falling apart and I’m powerless to prevent it!’

He remained, for some time, slumped at the desk until the sound of the hall clock chiming the hour infiltrated his brain. Straightening up, his eyes fell on the papers he had been attempting to examine earlier. With very little enthusiasm he pulled them towards him and began to peruse the top sheet.

Chapter Ten

Charles Ridgeway sat pensively on his horse, surveying the landscape below him. To the far right he could just make out the chimneys and parapets of the Beldale mansion, bathed in the late evening sunshine and protected by the mass of woodland and fields that surrounded it. At the foot of the hill up which he had just ridden, on the very edge of the Beldale estate, nestled his own home, the Dower House, with its neat gardens and home farm. To his left lay the more modern structure of Westpark House, close to its own boundary with the larger estate and, still further left, the slate rooftop of Staines, the old Butler property, with only the terraced gardens remaining within its demesne. Beyond the distant village and as far as the eye could see, all Hurst owned, in one way or another. A man without property is surely an insignificant creature, he concluded, once more ruefully censuring his late and far from lamented sire for his weak and prodigal lifestyle. Then, not being a vindictive man, Ridgeway sighed and bent his mind to the more pressing problem that was troubling him as he turned his mount towards Beldale.

It is like looking for a needle in a haystack, he thought. Over a hundred men on the list and more than half of them

could be described as ‘tall, thin and dark'! Putting faces to the names had taken them all week, Sandford having refused to allow anyone, apart from his man Tiptree, to assist in the covert search. In addition, he had demanded that no one was actually questioned, pointing out that this would immediately put any villains on their guard, reminding his cousin that neither Billy Tatler nor his chum Nick had recognised the man at the boathouse and, therefore, this particular check was being carried out only for the purpose of eliminating the obviously innocent. Their objective, he had said, was to whittle down the total number to just a few men whom he could present to the young lads in the hope that they would be able to identify their tormentor.

‘We’re looking for a recent arrival or someone who doesn’t go about in the village much,’ he now said to Ridgeway, having arranged to meet his cousin in the paddock between the two estates, where he knew that their conversation would not be overheard.

‘Or a casual worker, who has come and gone,’ offered Ridgeway, exasperated that his hands had been so tied. ‘Or a passing tinker, tramp—oh, lord, Sandford—any number of itinerants come through the village!’

‘He won’t be an itinerant,’ returned Sandford firmly. ‘Billy told you he thought he was from the Big House—that indicates his manner of dress and, probably, speech as well. He would have said, if he had thought him to be a vagrant. No, Charles, I’m convinced that this ‘'cove” has to have some sort of status or position within one of the households.’

‘Well, I hope to God you’re wrong in that! And why should anyone have developed such animosity towards Miss Cordell in so short a time?’ asked his cousin. ‘As far as I can judge, from my discreet conversations around the village …’ He caught Sandford’s frowning expression ‘—very discreet, I promise you, old man—she is well liked, one could say almost revered in certain places. I, for one, can’t imagine anyone taking her in dislike. She appears to have no faults, as I’m sure you agree.’

Sandford had turned away, a painful lump in his throat, the memory of the previous day’s events still haunting him.

‘She can be rather impetuous at times,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

Charles regarded him curiously. ‘But that is her chief virtue, wouldn’t you say, neck-or-nothing—that’s your lady, Sandford. No half-measures about her. They’re all saying she’ll make you a grand viscountess, man, she has a rare understanding of people’s feelings—not just their needs, as most of us have. You’re damned lucky that she chose you—I wish that I were as fortunate!’

He turned his horse’s head towards the Dower House and raised his brows questioningly. ‘Coming over for a spot of grub? I’m famished, I can tell you—and Tiptree here is feeling mighty peckish, too, I’ll be bound. We’ve been at it since the early hours without a break—although I dare say you’ll be wanting to get back to your sweetheart?’

Sandford, wincing at Ridgeway’s unintended irony, accepted his cousin’s invitation with alacrity. Having encountered Harriet entering the breakfast room just as he was about to depart, he had stiffly reminded her of their joint promise to attend Westpark that evening and, until the appointed hour, he intended to stay well clear of her frosty gaze. She had informed him that she would, of course, be ready at whatever time suited him and had stonily agreed to his request that they should endeavour to keep up their charade for what would probably be only a few days more, until her grandfather arrived.

While the viscount was doing his utmost to flush out her assailants, Harriet was engaged in a verbal tussle with Lord

William. She had spent part of the morning trying to calculate the extent of her financial indebtedness to the Hursts and had made the mistake of mentioning this matter to his lordship.

‘Little girls shouldn’t worry their pretty little heads about such things,’ he said soothingly. ‘I am happy to stand your banker.’

‘Yes, but …’ Harriet was not at all satisfied at this arrangement.

The earl wagged his finger at her. ‘I refuse to discuss the matter with you, Harriet. It concerns only your grandfather and myself—at least, for the moment,’ he finished, somewhat enigmatically.

Harriet, loath to cause him any distress, changed the subject. Aware that Lady Caroline, Chegwin, and even Sir Basil himself, had attributed much of the earl’s speedy recovery to her earlier cheerful visits and, apart from that single lapse into tears which had occurred after the incident in the woods, she had endeavoured to behave in the usual sparkling and light-hearted manner he had come to expect of her. Lately, however, she was finding it a great effort to keep up the merry repartee that so delighted him and, although she was always quickly diverted by Beldale’s own wicked sense of humour, she had occasionally experienced the odd sensation that his lordship was working equally hard to keep up her spirits.

‘We are to dine at Westpark this evening,’ she now told him. ‘No doubt I shall have a fund of “Butlapses” to bring you tomorrow.’

Butlapses’ was an expression the earl had coined early in his acquaintance with Judith’s mother and he had often used it during his conversations with Harriet after he had discovered that they shared the same sense of the ridiculous.

‘I vow she seems to get worse as she gets older,’ he chortled. ‘Even as a young woman she was prone to making unfortunate remarks but, having apparently devoted her life to perfecting the art, now that she is practically in her dotage she seems to think that age gives her the unassailable right to be downright rude. A good many of us old ones suffer from that same delusion, of course,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Oh, not you, sir,’ protested Harriet. ‘I am certain that I have never heard you utter a truly vindictive remark and dear Lady Caroline sees only the good in everyone, so she is also exempt from your reckoning. I believe …’ She stopped and her cheeks coloured.

Beldale, who had been contemplating his move on the chessboard between them, looked up at her hesitation.

‘What is it that you believe, my dear?’ he asked, his eyes suddenly alert as Harriet dropped her own in confusion at his scrutiny.

‘I fear I seem to be growing too opinionated, my lord,’ she stammered. ‘And, unlike—certain of our acquaintances, I cannot plead the excuse of maturity.’

The earl looked at her in blank astonishment.

‘Harriet, my love,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘You are in deadly danger of becoming ‘'one of them''.’

‘One of whom, my lord?’ asked Harried, puzzled.

‘One of the great English sisterhood of niminy-piminy milksops,’ said the earl, banging down his knight with such force that the rest of the pieces bounced off their squares.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Harriet, putting her hand to her mouth as her lips twitched involuntarily.

‘Oh, dear, indeed,’ said his lordship reproachfully. ‘See how badly your ‘'best behaviour” affects my play!’

Harriet burst out laughing and bent to retrieve the fallen chessmen. ‘I believe you did that on purpose, sir,’ she chuckled. ‘I was near to victory, you must concede.’

Beldale regarded her fondly. ‘Worth a dozen defeats to see you laugh again,’ he said warmly. ‘And now I demand to know who has been filling your head with this nonsense!’

Harriet was silent for a moment then, turning to look him squarely in the eye, she said, ‘I’m afraid that Sandford and I have ‘'come to cuffs” yet again, sir. He disapproves of my behaviour and—and—well, he has given me to understand that others might find it equally unacceptable. I was merely trying to m-modify …’

She caught his expression and broke into a grin. ‘Well, if you will make me laugh, how can I possibly hope to improve?’

‘Improve at your peril, my girl!’ exclaimed his lordship, horrified at the prospect. ‘If that young fool can’t recognise a diamond when he has one in his hand, then he must resign himself to wearing paste! And I shall tell him so myself!’

‘Please don’t,’ interrupted Harriet hurriedly. ‘He would dislike above all things to know that I had been discussing him with you—and you must allow that he has had a great deal to contend with of late. I really do intend to try to conduct myself in the most dignified manner when I am with him but—I promise to save my worst behaviour for your lordship!’

‘Excellent!’ answered Beldale, with a delighted smile, ‘Although I am bound to point out that the contemplation of your most dignified manner is enough to send one into the wildest hysterics!’

Ruefully, Harriet had to agree, although privately vowing that she would still endeavour to be on her very best behaviour that evening.

She dressed with care, choosing a pale turquoise crepe gown in the Grecian mode, with its gently draped bodice gathered under the bosom and its skirt flowing softly to her ankles. She elected to wear no jewellery, other than the obligatory ring, not wishing to be reminded of that other eventful occasion, and Rose, still bemoaning the absence of suitable adornment, brushed her mistress’s bright locks into their new style and wove a silver ribbon through them. The result was one of simple but charming elegance.

Sandford, too, paid special attention to his toilette, discarding several neckcloths in his efforts to achieve the perfect knot. Kimble stood in silent reproach as, one after another, the snowy silk cravats were hurled aside until, breathing heavily, the viscount pronounced himself satisfied.