Regency: Innocents & Intrigues: Marrying Miss Monkton / Beauty in Breeches

Charles thought Maria looked very small and forlorn and as he looked at her his heart softened. Absently she smoothed a lock of hair from her temple. She had twisted the heavy black tresses in a large knot at the nape of her neck, which emphasised the perfection of the delicate features and oval contours of her face. Hers was a soft and rare beauty that would remain ageless for many years to come.

He wished that he didn’t feel so responsible for her. It was an absurd feeling and it irritated him, for there was no reason for it. But the truth of it was that at the very beginning he had felt obligated to protect Sir Edward’s daughter, and knowing the nature of her betrothed, he had made it his duty to try to prevent her marrying Colonel Winston when the time came.

‘I’m sorry, Maria. I know how bitterly disappointed you must be feeling.’

Maria looked at him. His eyes were fixed on her with a frowning intensity. Her lips curved in a cynical smile. ‘If there’s anything I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that life is full of disappointments. One has to learn to bear them.’

She looked up at him, at his taut features, and it became apparent to her how Henry’s tardiness affected him also. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with a loneliness that wrenched her heart. Until now she hadn’t realised how much she had come to depend on Charles for both his strength and his protection. Parting from him was going to be harder than she had realised.

‘It is you that concerns me, Charles. I have no doubt that you hoped to discharge your duty where I am concerned and be about your own affairs. This must have come as a blow to you. I have no wish to be a burden to you so perhaps if there is a conveyance that will take me to Gravely—’

‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘I will not hear of it.’

‘I recall you telling me that you had made your own arrangements once we reached Dover.’

He nodded. ‘My home, Highgate, is in Kent. It was my intention to go there.’

‘I’m so sorry. But—you don’t have to change your plans. If I cannot go to Gravely, I am quite capable of going on to London alone.’

He shook his head, rejecting her suggestion. ‘I will not allow it. I arranged for my own coach and driver to meet me here. As soon as they arrive, if you don’t feel too bruised from your journey to Calais and in need of rest, we can leave as soon as we have eaten. Highgate is close to Canterbury. We can break our journey there.’

Still seated in the window recess, Maria raised her eyebrows, her look one of admiration as she watched a splendid coach, its body lacquered a gleaming black, drawn by four identical grey horses, the coachman turned out in formal bottle-green livery, arrive.

Charles, who had been pacing the floor impatiently, suddenly came to a halt.

‘Here he is. Very soon we shall be on the road.’

Maria stared at him. ‘You mean—that fine-looking carriage belongs to you?’

‘It does—and I am sure you will find it a good deal more comfortable than the conveyance we travelled in to Calais.’

When the horses had been rested and fed, the coachman put up the steps and closed the door, and with scarcely any sensation of motion, the well-sprung travelling chaise glided along the road behind the four prancing greys.

Maria glanced about her, admiring the crystal lamps and the heavy silver door handles and the soft dove-grey upholstery. Luxuriating in the unexpected comfort of the spacious conveyance, she looked across at her companion, who had his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was gazing morosely out of the window. Immediately she was filled with contrition. What a nuisance all this must be for him and how he must be cursing Henry for not coming to Dover to meet her.

‘I hate inconveniencing you like this, Charles,’ she said softly. ‘Will you stay long at Highgate?’

He flicked a glance in her direction. ‘I haven’t made up my mind. It depends what I find when I get there. Hopefully things will be as they were when I left for France. I have to go to London anyway. I have pressing matters and important people to see.’

‘Has it anything to do with you being in France?’ she dared to ask, expecting a rebuff.

She was surprised when he fixed her with a level look and said, ‘To satisfy your curiosity, Maria, now it is safe to do so I can tell you that I went to France on the request of some members of the government to see and report on the general order of things in Paris. Like everyone else in England, the government is horrified about what is happening—the massacres and the burning of properties. Those with a vested interest in the social order are seriously worried that revolutionary ideas will spread to Britain.’

Maria stared at him wide-eyed in astonishment. ‘Good gracious! So you are a paid spy in the employ of the British government. How exciting—though highly dangerous,’ she finished on a more sombre note.

His eyes hardened and a thin, cynical smile curved his lips. ‘You needn’t appear so surprised, Maria. You had me cast in the role of spy from the first.’

‘In all truth I didn’t know what to think. I’m just relieved things have turned out the way they have—that France is behind us. What will happen in the end, do you think?’

‘That depends on what you mean by the end.’

‘When all the rioting and burning of noble houses and the killing has ended. Will France get her republic?’

‘I believe it will.’

When he made no attempt to converse further with her, Maria sensed that he was grappling with some sort of weighty problem, and she let the silence continue, content to watch the passing scenery roll past the windows.

Arriving at Highgate they were admitted through the tall gates of the estate where Charles lived. The warm mellow brick manor house stood proudly against a backdrop of sprawling parkland as they drove up the gracefully curving drive.

Maria looked around in approval. ‘What a lovely house.’

‘I agree—but then I would. It’s been in my family for generations.’

They stepped out of the carriage and climbed the wide flight of stone steps to the massive door. Before they reached it it was opened by a stiff-faced man dressed in dark blue and gold livery. His face relaxed with pleasure when he saw who had arrived.

‘Sir Charles! It’s good to see you back.’

Charles lifted a hand in an invitation for Maria to precede him. ‘Thank you, Jesson,’ he said, striding past him and nodding at Mrs Moor, the housekeeper at Highgate. ‘It’s good to be home. How is my mother?’

‘Lady Osbourne left for London last month, Sir Charles. She was quite well when she left. She said she was tired of the country and was missing her friends.’

‘I see. Then I shall see her there. We are on our way to London. When we have eaten and the horses have rested we’ll continue with our journey. Is there anything I need to attend to while I am here?’

‘I don’t think so, sir. Mr Parry has everything running like clockwork. There is some private correspondence that needs attending to.’

‘I’ll take it with me and deal with it in London. Mark Parry is my bailiff,’ Charles explained to Maria. ‘He is highly competent and I don’t know what I’d do without him. Have cook prepare a meal for us, Mrs Moor—and if you could, show Miss Monkton to a room. I’m sure you would like to freshen up before we eat,’ he said, looking at Maria. His gaze passed over her attire and his expression became one of distaste.

‘I think it’s time you disposed of that dress. I’m sure Mrs Moor can find you something else to wear. My sisters both have dresses stashed somewhere. I think Georgina is more your size. There’s bound to be something that will suit. For safety’s sake, Miss Monkton was forced to leave everything in France in a hurry,’ he explained to his housekeeper.

‘Which is why I appear before you dressed as a peasant,’ Maria said, looking with mock dismay at her dismal attire. ‘I assure you I don’t normally look like this.’

Mrs Moor faced Maria with a cheery smile. ‘Come with me, Miss Monkton. I’ll see what I can find.’

And she did. Attired in a delicate lemon gown, the long tresses of her hair pulled from her face and left to fall down her back beneath trails of lemon ribbon, Maria entered the drawing room like a fresh breeze, sweeping in through the door.

Seated by the window flicking through some correspondence, Charles quickly came to his feet in appreciation of her dazzling beauty. His gaze slid boldly over her, from the top of her shining head to her swelling breasts beneath the bodice of her gown and right down to her feet. Maria was accustomed to the admiring glances of gentlemen, but there was nothing gentlemanly about Charles’s lazy perusal of her body.

‘Are you quite finished?’ she asked tersely.

His unhurried gaze lifted to her eyes and a wry smile quirked his stern lips when he heard the exasperation in her voice. Perhaps she resented him suggesting she shed her unflattering black gown that had seen better days on her maid. ‘I was merely admiring the transformation, Maria. You look quite radiant.’

She had been lovely before, but he hadn’t expected her to blossom into a full-fledged beauty simply by changing her gown. When she reached London she would dazzle society’s gentlemen. And therein lay his problem, for she was a complete innocent, an inexperienced innocent in his charge, and for whom he was responsible. The image of himself as guardian of her virtue—not forgetting her fortune—was so ludicrous it was laughable. But that was the role he would be forced to play when Maria had sent Henry Winston packing—which she would, when she laid eyes on his gross bulk, and she was truly alone.

‘Now come and eat. I would like to resume our journey as soon as possible if we are to reach London before dark.’

Feeling slightly mellow and in good spirits after partaking of a delicious meal, happy that Charles’s sombre mood had lightened somewhat with the food and wine, when they had left Highgate and were settled once more in the carriage, not wishing to impose on Charles any longer and impatient to see Henry so she could take stock and do what she thought was necessary, Maria ventured to ask, ‘Will you take me straight to wherever it is that Henry lives when we reach London?’ She smiled, and, without giving him chance to reply, went on, ‘Don’t you find it strange that I have no idea where that is?’ Charles merely gave her a wry smile. ‘Whenever I wrote to him I always sent the letters to his address in India.’ She looked at him sideways. ‘Where does he live now he’s left the company and is back in England, Charles?’

‘He has taken a modest house in the Strand,’ he answered brusquely.

‘I see, although I really have no idea where that is. I’m not at all familiar with London, never having been there. Whatever the outcome of our meeting, I’m impatient to go to Gravely, to see if it’s just as I remember it when my father was alive.’

Suddenly Charles shot her a glance of exasperation. He looked angry and agitated. ‘Maria, I would be grateful if you would speak of something else. The last thing I wish to discuss right now is Henry Winston.’

Maria stiffened and pressed herself back against the cushions, her face blank with hurt, surprised at the coldness in his eyes.

Charles met the look squarely. ‘You think that’s callous and brutal of me, don’t you?’ he said with deliberate harshness.

‘I’m sorry. I seem to have been talking a deal too much. I did not mean to bore you. But you needn’t worry. We’ll soon be in London and then you’ll be free of me. Your obligation to me will be over. That must please you.’

‘What pleases me is that I’ve managed to get you out of France unharmed. What doesn’t please me is that you might decide to honour your father’s wish and wed Henry Winston regardless,’ he snapped irately.

Maria met his gaze with anguish in her eyes. ‘You know how to wound, don’t you, Charles? Do we have to go through this again? You have made your feelings plain where Henry is concerned. Your point is well taken.’

The lines around Charles’s mouth tightened and a hard gleam shone from his eyes. ‘But is it, Maria? I think I should tell you the truth about the man before you meet so you can prepare yourself.’

‘Prepare myself? What on earth for?’ she said, her voice quick with indignation and reproach. ‘Has he sprouted two heads or something?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Initially I decided your betrothal was none of my business—’

‘You were right,’ Maria flared. ‘It isn’t. But why didn’t you tell me if you had something to say?’

‘I didn’t tell you because I suppose I meant it for the best,’ he replied, ignoring her jibe.

‘And now it’s too late.’ With a stubborn lift of her chin she turned her head away.

His hand shot out and grasped her wrist. ‘You will listen to what I have to say.’

Maria pulled furiously at her imprisoned wrist. ‘Let me go.’ When he released her, she rubbed her wrist and glowered at him. ‘Very well, say what you have to say. But in the end I shall make up my own mind about him.’

Despite her determined words, Charles saw there was doubt in Maria’s face, and something else. A dawning apprehension and fear.

‘So, what is wrong with him?’ she asked to prompt him when he delayed answering.

‘What is wrong with him,’ Charles said with brutal clarity, ‘is that Henry Winston suffers from overindulgence of all the pleasures in life: drink, drugs, gambling—and women.’

Maria caught her breath in shock and turned quickly. ‘Oh—I see.’

‘You don’t know him. How can you? You have not set eyes on him in six years, don’t forget. He is not a fit person for you to associate yourself with—or any other woman, come to that—never mind becoming his wife. He’s totally unsuitable for a decently reared young woman as yourself.’

‘Please stop it. If he is as bad as you say, then I shall soon see for myself.’

‘I do not know why, when he left India, and knowing what was happening in France, he did not go himself to bring you back. Nor do I know why he could not meet us at Dover. What I do know is that after attending wild, debauched parties he is frequently incapable of standing upright.’

Maria could not deny that she was deeply shocked by what he was telling her, and however much she wanted to disbelieve it, she knew Charles would not lie to her. ‘Why are you trying so hard to discredit him to me?’

‘Perhaps it’s because I don’t like to see pearls cast before swine.’

‘It won’t be like that,’ she whispered, averting her eyes.

Charles saw she was hurt. The truth always did that. ‘When you were a young girl you no doubt cherished a vision of a fine-looking soldier of the East India Company—a handsome knight in splendorous armour—and dreamt of him returning and carrying you off to a wondrous place. Am I right, Maria?’

‘Perhaps … when I was thirteen, but the fantasy dimmed very quickly.’

‘Strip away his rank and his uniform and you will see what is left—a blackguard, roué, drunkard, gamester—all in all a complete hedonist. It’s impossible to respect a man like that.’

Seeing the confusion and bewilderment that filled her eyes, aware that she had no experience of the kind of man he spoke of, once again Charles was conscious of the pain in his heart when he looked at her.

‘Now you know, I would advise you to go directly to Gravely when you are rested.’

Maria didn’t answer him. The moment seemed to stretch interminably. At length she managed to say, ‘If he is all the terrible things you accuse him of being, why would he want to marry me?’

Charles’s smile was ironic. ‘Come now, Maria. Surely not even you could be that naïve. Your wealth speaks for itself.’

Maria was profoundly offended and humiliated by his remark, and ire sparked in her eyes. ‘And I don’t suppose you believe that Henry could possibly want to marry me for myself,’ she retorted, deeply hurt and insulted that he should think this.

‘You were thirteen years old. That should speak for itself.’

No, this was too much. She felt that he was laughing at her, and she could feel the red flames of outrage scorch her body. She drew herself up to her full height. ‘How dare you say that? Yes, I was very young, I cannot deny that and nor can I help it, but I—I trusted him,’ she finished, somewhat lamely.

‘I know you did, and I also know it must be dreadful to trust someone and then find yourself totally let down.’

Angry sparks flared in her eyes. ‘Until I have seen Henry I don’t know that. I don’t doubt there is some element of truth in what you are saying, but I shall reserve judgement until I have seen for myself.’

Charles’s gaze held hers; he knew he was being brutal, but if it was the only way he could get her to listen, then so be it. ‘Think about it, Maria? He has worked for the East India Company for years, enjoying his pleasures too much to be taken seriously by his superiors to be offered promotion. Instead, he was considered an embarrassment to the Company and asked to leave.’

‘You—mean he didn’t leave of his own volition?’

‘That is precisely what I am saying.’

‘Then there must have been some other reason.’

Charles uttered a curse beneath his breath at her stubborn refusal to consider, let alone believe, what he was saying to be true. ‘Consider this. Winston has no wealth of his own to speak of. When he called on your father at Gravely, it was just what he needed, an ill man with a fortune, with a daughter to inherit, who would drop that same fortune at the feet of the man she married. With his knowledge of India and your father’s thirst to hear all about the land he loved, a land he knew he would never set eyes on again, this was child’s play for him to win your father over.’

Maria was stricken. ‘No.’ Her voice cracked painfully. ‘I do not believe any of this—nor do I know why you should want to discredit him so.’

‘Because I know him, Maria. Everything went off as Winston had hoped, better than that since your father did not live long after your betrothal, leaving everything to you. Can you not see the cynical calculation of which you have been the object, and the cold-blooded way in which Winston set about playing on your father’s goodness and your innocence?’

‘My father was an excellent judge of character. He trusted Henry implicitly, otherwise he would never have agreed to the betrothal.’

‘He was an ill man who was desperate to settle his daughter’s future. Winston appeared at Gravely like manna from heaven. Your father was hoodwinked by Winston. If you go ahead and marry him, your precious Henry will not enjoy your fortune for long.’

‘Why, what are you saying?’

‘In no time at all he will have got rid of it. He is head over heels in debt and disgrace. Maria, listen to me. You will be in as much danger from Henry Winston as you were from the mob in France.’

‘No,’ she seethed. ‘I do not know how I shall feel when I meet Henry—I confess to feeling apprehensive—and more than a little afraid. Since my father consented to my marriage to Henry, then I feel I owe it to his memory to at least give Henry the benefit of the doubt. I do not know why you are saying these things, Charles, why you hate him so much, unless it’s because you are jealous of him for some reason and are doing your best to blacken his name to me.’

‘And why would I want to do that? What reason could I possibly have?’

‘Because—because you—you might want me for yourself.’

Elevating a dark brow, he looked at her speculatively, the hint of a smile curving his lips. ‘And have I given you reason to think that, Maria?’ he asked softly.

‘All the time—in France—and on—on the boat—something happened … but I don’t see … I don’t understand … Oh …’ Her cheeks flamed red. She was bewildered and totally out of her depth when it came to speaking of such intimate matters.

‘No—you don’t, do you?’ His gaze was fixed intently on her. ‘You don’t know and you don’t see—that’s one of the things which makes you so extraordinary. You’re so lovely, so innocent, somehow. Something did happen between us,’ he admitted, his voice softening. ‘We both felt it, but I am surprised that you should mention it. It shows your inexperience and innocence, Maria—and there is nothing to be ashamed of in that.’

Maria felt her cheeks grow hotter and she lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. That exchange of incredulous glances—incredulous on her part—had lasted no more than a few seconds but had seemed absolutely right and so amazingly natural, she could feel it even now, a smoothness of something sweet like honey running through her veins.

But that incredulous feeling also brought with it a sense of fear, fear of Charles, but why this should be she did not know. She found him altogether too disturbing, and she didn’t know how to deal with the strange, alien feelings he had evoked in her.

Straightening her slim shoulders, she lifted her chin and glared at him with defiance, trying to still the trembling of her body with a visible effort of will. She said, ‘My inexperience is because of the sheltered life I have led at Chateau Feroc—which is the way of things in my aunt’s world; no matter how disparaging you are about Henry, ultimately the decision as to whether I marry him or not is my decision.’

Charles’s face stiffened into a scornful mask of stone. ‘Don’t be a little fool, Maria. If you go ahead with this foolishness it will not be long before you discover the misery of living from hand to mouth with a man for whom you will no longer hold any commercial value. But, as you say, that is your affair.’

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