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

‘Judith, I promise you there is nothing for you to worry about. I told you that if there was a problem with Westpark—

‘Problem with Westpark!’ Lady Butler’s ringing tones interrupted him. ‘What problem with Westpark? Explain yourself, young man!’

Sandford controlled himself with difficulty. ‘As far as I am aware, your ladyship,’ he said carefully, ‘there are no problems at Westpark—as I was just trying to impress upon Judith. Why everyone insists upon inventing problems where none exist, I cannot imagine! Charles and I were discussing something quite other, I promise you—and I—we apologise unreservedly for our outrageously bad manners in having deserted you for so long.’

Ridgeway nodded his agreement. ‘It’s true, Judith—Lady Butler—there was absolutely no mention of Westpark in our conversation and I, too, apologise for our lengthy absence.’

Lady Butler gazed at them both with narrowed eyes, as if by doing so she could read their minds, then, collecting together her various belongings, she got heavily to her feet.

‘Hmm, well—I suppose you also wanted a little peace and quiet after that earlier boisterous display—frankly, I’m not surprised you stayed away for so long. However, it is now time for us to wish you goodnight—it is, as you see, very late.’

She stared pointedly towards the clock and Judith, looking at Ridgeway, gave an embarrassed little shrug, as he smiled in sympathy.

‘Lady Butler is quite right, Judith,’ he said, as he bent over her hand. ‘The time has flown so quickly and, indeed, I am very sorry that I didn’t spend more of it in your company—it would have been infinitely more enjoyable, I assure you.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself, sir,’ laughed Sandford, bowing to Lady Butler and kissing his sister-in-law’s cheek. ‘Many thanks, Judith. In spite of our prolonged absence, may I pronounce the evening a great success?’

Harriet, having also bidden her adieux, was escorted out to the waiting carriage by both men, but was surprised to find that it was Charles Ridgeway who stepped forward to hand her into her seat.

‘If ever you need my assistance,’ he said in a low voice, as he moved away from the door, ‘remember that I am always at your disposal,’ and, bowing, he walked off to collect his gig.

Harriet was still pondering over his words as Sandford climbed into the carriage and took his seat opposite her. It was too dark to see his face.

‘Have you told Mr Ridgeway how it was that we met?’ she asked him curiously.

‘Has he said so?’ Sandford sounded taken aback.

‘Not exactly—but he seemed—different, somehow, and you were away so long I wondered …’

‘I felt that it was time to take him into my confidence,’ admitted Sandford. ‘I am no nearer to tracking down your assailants than I was a week ago—I thought that he might have some new ideas …’

‘And has he?’ Harriet asked eagerly.

‘’Fraid not—he latched on to the Middletons, of course—just as I did—but now we’re agreed that everything seems to point to someone from the House.’

They were both silent for several minutes then Sandford spoke again. ‘Harriet?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘Oh, God! Not still?’ She heard the thud as he struck the cushion with his fist. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Harriet—we have to talk—preferably somewhere I can see your face. Will you come into the library when we get back?’

‘I am rather tired, sir,’ she said mutinously. ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’

‘No, it damned well cannot!’ Sandford exclaimed. ‘Do you want me to come over there and persuade you?’

‘I would prefer that you remained in your own seat, my lord,’ she said shakily. ‘If I may remind you that I am under your protection …’

She heard his gasp and waited in trepidation for his reply, but there was only a heavy silence in the darkness. All of a sudden an unaccountable sensation of longing welled up inside her.

‘Lord Sandford?’ Her voice was hesitant.

‘Miss Cordell?’ he answered patiently. He was hurt and angry, but determined not to rise to any further strictures she might cast at him.

‘I want you to know that I am very grateful for all the trouble you have taken on my behalf—no, please let me finish!’ She had heard his attempted protest. ‘It’s just that I’m sure that it must have crossed your mind that had I never come to Beldale—had you never picked me up—you would not have had to spend all your time trying to extricate me from these other mishaps—I realised this some days ago. What I am trying to say is that I want you to stop wasting any more of your time on this endeavour. My own feeling is that it has all been a series of unfortunate and disconnected incidents—no real harm has been done to me—obviously none was really intended, otherwise it could easily have been achieved … oh!’

Sandford had leapt across the space between them and had his arms tightly about her.

‘No, don’t say it,’ he said, his voice muffled in her hair. ‘I have had nightmares enough. I do not consider it to be a waste of time to find and punish anyone who has tried to hurt you—they will be lucky to escape with their lives!’

‘Sir! You must not say so!’ Harriet’s heart seemed to be leaping about inside her ribcage and she could hardly breathe. She tried to push him away, but her arms were trapped against him. ‘Please release me—I beg you—Robert—please!’

At once he loosened his hold and moved a little way from her, still keeping one arm around her shoulders. She could scarcely make out his silhouette in the gloom, but knew that he had his face towards her for she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

‘You must listen to me,’ she cried breathlessly. ‘My grandfather will be here shortly—I shall keep Davy with me if I go anywhere, I promise. I know I should have done so when you asked me—but in a few days you will be free of me …’

‘Free of you!’ Sandford choked. ‘I don’t want to be free of you—I want never to be free of you. What I want is …’

But the viscount was unable to finish his passionate words as the carriage had drawn to a halt and Pritchard, the groom, was opening the door and letting down the steps for him to alight. Barely controlling his impatience, Sandford held out his hand to Harriet and led her into the house.

‘Won’t you come into the library—just for a few minutes?’ he pleaded. ‘There is something I must say to you.’

Harriet shook her head resolutely and moved towards the stairs. This is all madness, she thought, in a panic. In a few days my grandfather will come for me. I shall return to Scotland with him. That is what I set out to do. That is what I must do.

Sandford, his heart heavy, saw his hopes crumbling away as he watched her climb the staircase, for he realised that, from now on, she would be very much on her guard in ensuring that she did not find herself alone with him again.

He turned away from the unremitting spectacle of her rigid figure, divested himself of his cloak and hat and, handing them to the patiently waiting March, dismissed the servant for the night.

Much later, sprawled in his father’s high-backed chair in the library, he emptied another glass of brandy and reviewed his situation for the umpteenth time.

Trounced by a pair of green eyes, by God! After all his years in the field! Plenty of other fish in the sea, of course—and they’d be queuing up, once he let it be known he was hanging out for a wife—which he wasn’t—didn’t need one. Beldale’s future was safe—Phil’s boy was a fine enough heir—Ridgeway would help him run the estates.

Ah, yes, Ridgeway! His lips twisted as he remembered. He was being mighty friendly to Harriet this evening—supposed to be in love with Judith, too—very interested when he heard the engagement was a sham. Too interested, perhaps? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned her inheritance, he thought, but he shan’t have her—I’m damned if I’ll let him have her—damned if I’ll let anyone ….

March found him slumped in the chair the following morning when he came into the room to open the curtains. The footman stared down at Sandford in distaste and picked up both the fallen glass and the empty decanter.

‘He’s had a skinful, I’ll be bound,’ giggled Lizzy, the young housemaid who had accompanied him, but he frowned at her and motioned her to be silent. She flounced away pertly with the tray he had handed her.

‘My lord!’ March gently shook the viscount’s shoulder. ‘Your lordship!’

Sandford’s bleary eyes dragged open and he blinked rapidly to focus them upon March’s expressionless face. Struggling upwards into a sitting position, he groaned as his head roared out its protest.

‘What—time—is—it?’ he croaked, carefully and slowly.

‘Six o’clock, my lord,’ March’s answer came back smartly. ‘Shall I bring you a pot of coffee, sir?’

Sandford started to nod, then quickly changed his mind as the battery of cannon exploded violently across his temples. He flapped a slack hand at the man and closed his eyes once more as March bowed and, with a very unsympathetic grin on his face, walked towards the door.

His lordship breathed deeply for several minutes, trying to remember why he should have chosen to sleep in the library, in such a damned uncomfortable chair when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs. His eyes were still closed when he heard the sounds of the door opening and footsteps approaching.

‘Just put it on the table, March, thank you,’ he murmured weakly.

‘I shall do no such thing,’ came a bright and well-known voice.

His eyes flew open in shock and he tried to rise, but Harriet’s hands pressed him firmly back into his seat.

‘Sit still,’ she said, calmly pouring out a cup of coffee and, to his surprise, taking a sip of it herself.

‘This is for you.’ She indicated and handed him a tall glass full of an evil-coloured liquid.

Sandford sniffed at it and pulled a face. ‘What is it?’ he asked plaintively.

‘It is vinegar and raw eggs—and it is quite horrid,’ she said, with a laugh in her voice that woke him up immediately. ‘Drink it!’ she commanded and came down on her knees beside his chair.

‘I can’t—it would make me—that is—I should …’

‘Yes, I know—you would be sick! Well, my lord, you will either bring it up or keep it down—whichever way, it will still cure your hangover.’

Manfully, he struggled to down the contents of the glass, hypnotised by the laughing gleam in her green eyes. She removed the tumbler from his shaking hand and put it carefully on the side table, but remained on her knees studying his face with a very serious expression upon her own.

‘I came down early, to see if I could catch you before you left,’ she said, after a minute or two. ‘March told me you had spent the night in here—and that you were feeling somewhat …under the weather!’

‘Did he, indeed—blast him!’ gritted Sandford, who was fighting a desperate battle with the contents of his stomach and determined to win. ‘I suppose that foul concoction was his idea?’

‘No,’ she said sweetly. ‘It was mine!’

He blinked in astonishment at her answer and discovered at the same time that his head was indeed beginning to clear.

‘Set on poisoning me, are you?’ he asked roughly, his eyes engrossed with the nearness of her face.

‘Of course.’ She started to get to her feet, but when he beseechingly put out his hand she smiled and remained at his side. ‘You’ll survive, I’m sure.’

‘Only with the right treatment, I think—and it may take a very long time.’

She laughed softly and the explosions in his temples were reduced to mere firecrackers. Tentatively he took her hand in his.

‘Why were you hoping to catch me before I went out?’

‘I thought you might allow me to ride with you—but I fear you are not up to such vigorous exercise just yet. Perhaps in an hour or two?’

‘And until then?’ Sandford asked hopefully, but Harriet thrust his hands aside and jumped to her feet.

‘ You will go and lie down on your bed.’ She dimpled at him. ‘I shall go and eat a substantial breakfast and, perhaps, take a walk on the terrace—with the faithful Davy, of course—and await your return.’ ‘With bated breath?’ ‘There is always that possibility!’ The viscount rose gingerly, holding on to the back of the chair with great deliberation. He certainly felt a good deal better than when he had been woken by March, but perhaps a short rest and a change of raiment would be the best plan to follow at the moment. He looked at Harriet, trying to make sense of her mood.

‘You have had a change of heart, perhaps?’ She shook her head at him and pointed to the door. ‘Go now and have your rest—I shan’t say another word on the subject until you return!’

Somewhat perturbed, but too confused to argue, he allowed himself to be shepherded to the foot of the staircase where he found Kimble waiting in frowning disapproval.

‘Your arm, my lord,’ said his valet stiffly and proceeded to help his young master slowly up the stairs.

Harriet watched until the pair had disappeared from sight, then turned and smiled at the ever-present March and said, ‘Is Davy Rothman about, March? I should like to go for a walk after breakfast, if he is available?’

She still wasn’t totally at ease with the idea that Beldale’s servants were there for her to command and she regarded the idea of one wasting his time just walking along behind her as perfectly ridiculous, but since she had agreed to it she was prepared to fulfil her part of the bargain.

March’s face creased with concern at her request. ‘Young Rothman, Miss Cordell? I’m dreadfully sorry, but his father sent him down to the village just five minutes ago—we didn’t expect you to be rising this early, miss—after being so late last night and all.’

Harriet laughed and put her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t look so worried, March—it isn’t the end of the world. I shall have my breakfast and, if Davy hasn’t returned, surely you have another youngster who is prepared to give up his duties to be my shadow for an hour?’

‘Of course, miss.’ March’s face cleared. ‘I know just the lad. You would like your breakfast now, miss? I shall inform Mr Rothman.’

With that, he bowed and left the hall and Harriet strolled into the breakfast parlour where the early morning sunshine was just beginning to filter its pale light through the rear windows of the house.

She stood for a while, watching the gardeners tidying the terrace flower-beds, and marvelled at the amount of work that had to be done in a great house before the occupants rose. Dusting and polishing, sweeping, cooking and even gardening—and so many people involved, so many people dependant upon so few for their daily bread. A terrible responsibility, she realised, and was no longer so sure that she had come to the right decision, after all.

For, after a sleepless few hours, she had at last made up her mind. Sandford’s continued protestations of love certainly seemed genuine and she was almost sure that he had been about to ask for her hand when they returned from Westpark last evening. Having searched her conscience thoroughly, she could see no good reason for refusing him. There were times when she actually liked him, although she found him very disconcerting too—and very high-handed, but that was to be expected in someone of his rank and position. He had been used to dealing with hundreds of men from different walks of life, many of them rather unruly and very badly behaved, as she well remembered. He would have had to be very strict and autocratic with some of them, she felt sure and, after so many years, it had probably become second nature to him. He wasn’t always like that, as she herself could testify and he was often very amusing to be with. She was sufficiently level-headed to realise that refusing an earl’s son would be considered absolute folly by the bastions of English Society and, although she knew none of these worthies, she felt that even her unknown grandfather would view such a refusal as somewhat puzzling from a girl with her unusual background. Besides which, she had to admit that the idea of immuring herself in a Scottish castle in a lonely glen was growing less appealing by the day, especially after having been in this glorious Leicestershire countryside for these past weeks.

She was not, she had to own, completely comfortable with the idea of marrying for the aforementioned reasons, especially after her high-flown speech about love and chivalry, and she was uneasily certain that Sandford would not be at all impressed to have any one of them offered to him as her justification for accepting his hand.

However, she was sure that they could learn to deal perfectly amicably together, which was more than a great many married couples could claim. She was well aware that her own parents’ marriage had been most unusual in having been a love match and, in contemplating such a union between Sandford and herself, her cheeks grew hot and her heart seemed to skip several beats. Her lips curving in anticipation, she allowed herself to visualise the wicked glint that would appear in his eyes when she gave him her answer. Ridiculous! She admonished herself for her foolish thoughts, vowing to concentrate on only the practical aspects of the matter.

She finished the rolls and coffee that Rothman had brought to her and went into the hall to see if young Davy had returned from his errand to the village.

March shook his head. ‘Sorry, Miss Cordell,’ he said. ‘He’s not back yet—but young Cooper would be glad to accompany you—he’s not that keen on polishing silver!’ He grinned at her and she smiled in return.

‘I can sympathise with that—a thankless task!’

March went to the back stairs to call Cooper up. Harriet walked through the small parlour out to the rear terrace, where a blushing young footman joined her a few minutes later.

At this early hour the dew was still wet on the grass and Harriet was glad she had pulled her riding boots on before coming downstairs. Having dressed with a view to being ready to ride at moment’s notice should Sandford have been available, she was still wearing her riding habit. Not the most suitable skirt for a walk on the grass, she realised, but since she would have to change later to attend the church service she elected not to waste any more of the beautiful morning worrying about a damp hem and set off across the park with Cooper in train.

After some moments, the increasing absurdity of the situation brought a smile to her face and she motioned to Cooper to come alongside. ‘I hear that you are not fond of silver-polishing.’

Cooper grinned shamefacedly and nodded.

‘Will you enjoy being a footman, do you think?’ Harriet persevered.

Cooper looked at her in surprise. Enjoying one’s work had never been a question that any of the staff had given a great deal of thought to as far as he was aware. ‘I think I should like Mr March’s position, miss,’ he ventured shyly. ‘But it has taken him more than ten years to get to be first

footman and I’m not sure I’d want to wait that long—or even if I’d be that good at it!’

‘I suppose you didn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter,’ Harriet mused, more to herself than to the youth. ‘What would you have done otherwise?’

‘I suppose I could have gone in the stables—or the gardens, like my dad, but I’m not that keen on an outdoor life,’ said Cooper. ‘What I’d really like, miss, is to be a carpenter—but I’d have to go for apprentice and it’s not that easy these days.’

Harriet nodded sympathetically. The country had been in a state of unrest since the war ended. Prices had risen sharply and wages had fallen; returning soldiers had been unable to find work and, in many areas, marauding gangs were set on inciting riots amongst the discontented and mob rule frequently prevailed. Beldale had, so far, escaped involvement with these crises, mainly because of the earl’s policy of care for his tenants and servants—his ‘people’, as he called them. This was why Judith had expressed such concern over the possibility of laying men off and why young Cooper was grateful to have a job at all.

They strolled through the knot gardens, with Harriet pausing every so often to admire particularly attractive floral displays. When her young escort ventured to point out which of the gardeners was his father, she stopped to compliment the older Cooper on the magnificence of the late summer roses he was pruning.

‘We’ve had a good year, miss,’ he said, knuckling his forehead to her. ‘Plenty of sun these last few weeks—although I shouldn’t be surprised to see rain before the day’s out.’ He indicated the clouds gathering over the hill. ‘If you’re going riding, miss,’ he warned, having observed her costume, ‘you’ll be wise not to venture far afield, if you’ll pardon my saying so.

How very good of you to mention it.’ She smiled at him and, much moved, he bent to clip a perfect specimen from one of the bushes and offered it to her.

‘For your buttonhole, miss—almost matches your pretty hair,’ he said, ignoring his son’s impudent grin. ‘It’s called ‘'Beldale Sunset''—one of our own varieties.’

Harriet was deeply touched. ‘How lovely!’ she exclaimed, inhaling the delicious perfume before carefully tucking the flower into the braiding on her jacket. ‘Thank you—for the compliment as well as the rose—I’m honoured that you should clip one for me.’ She bestowed another of her captivating smiles upon him and was about to turn away when she happened to catch young Cooper’s low and hurried parting words to his father.

‘—news of young Tatler?’

She saw the older man’s frowning shake of the head as he knelt to resume his work. An odd premonition overcame her and, as they walked on through the gardens, she questioned the young footman.

‘Were you referring to Billy Tatler? Has something happened to him?’

Cooper shuffled uncomfortably. Visiting gentry didn’t usually concern themselves too much in local problems and he was unsure of the wisdom of passing on rumours, but Harriet’s eyes were fixed upon him in such a steadfast way that he found the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

Harriet’s eyes grew round with horror as his tale unfolded. It appeared that the lad Billy had gone missing two days previously but, because of his errant lifestyle, his mother had not begun to worry about his absence until late the previous night when she had expressed her concern to Ridgeway on his return from Westpark. He had, it seemed, chosen to regard the boy’s disappearance as a much more serious matter than the rest of the household would have expected and had immediately set several men on to searching Billy’s known haunts. Mr Ridgeway himself, Cooper told Harriet, had been out most of the night.

‘But has no one informed their lordships?’ she asked, walking quickly back towards the house.

‘Mr Ridgeway wouldn’t have them woken up, miss,’ panted Cooper, hurrying to keep up with her. ‘’Tisn’t usual for any of the family to be up this early—he’ll have left a message with Mr Rothman, I’ll be bound.’

Harriet hesitated, and then turned towards the stables where she found quite a flurry of activity. Apprehending a passing stableboy, she instructed him to saddle up her horse at once, while Cooper looked on in dismay.

‘But I can’t ride, miss,’ he stammered. ‘That’s why Davy—Rothman was picked. Shall I go and see if he’s back, miss?’

Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, do, Cooper—and tell him to follow me to the Dower House. I shall take the back lane—and tell March to give the same message to Lord Sandford when he wakes,’ she called over her shoulder as she mounted.

Wheeling Clipper in the direction of her proposed route, she headed for the short bridleway that led to the south of the Beldale estate, where the Dower House was situated. She had not gone far, however, when she was halted by one of the large group that was milling around the courtyard. A young groom, by the look of him, he signalled urgently to her to stop and she reined in beside him.

‘If you’re wanting Mr Ridgeway, miss,’ he volunteered, ‘he’s just gone up to Top Meadow along North Lane. You’ll soon catch up with him if you take a short cut through the copse—shall I tell Davy when I see him, miss?’