A Most Unsuitable Match

The tone of her aunt’s voice could only mean the ‘someone’ was an eligible young man. A spurt of excitement pulling her from her melancholy, hoping the brisk walk in the gardens that had put roses in her cheeks hadn’t disordered her curls too much, Pru clutched her aunt’s arm more tightly and allowed herself to be led to the opposite side of the floor.

‘Lady Wentworth, Mrs Dalwoody! How nice to see you both!’

The two ladies turned...their movement then copied by the tall man who stood beside them and Pru caught her breath.

She needed no introduction to know that this swoon-worthy gentleman was as wealthy and nobly born as he was handsome. He wore his exquisitely tailored clothing with the unconscious sense of superiority found only in those with old money and important connections.

Or at least, he appeared wealthy. The distinguished family name, she could count on. The two society matrons her aunt had just called out would never have allowed a nouveau-riche Cit with social aspirations in their midst. And no man of lesser breeding would emanate such an aura of self-confidence, as if both accustomed to and taking for granted the notice he attracted.

For in truth, she realised, hers weren’t the only eyes focused on him. He was the object of the interested gaze of every female in the vicinity—and most of the gentlemen.

‘Lady Stoneway, I’d heard you were visiting Bath,’ Lady Wentworth said warmly, giving her aunt—a friend of long-standing, Pru knew—a hug. ‘With your charming niece, too!’

‘Augusta, how good to see you again,’ Mrs Dalwoody said. ‘And, my dear, how lovely you’ve grown! Already budding fair to become a Beauty last time I met you, though I’m sure you don’t remember. You couldn’t have been more than fourteen, that summer I visited dear Augusta at Chemberton Park.’

With an amused smile, the young man cleared his throat. ‘Please, ladies, in your enthusiasm for greeting one another, you’ve quite left me out! Won’t you introduce me to these charming newcomers?’

‘How impolite of me!’ Lady Wentworth exclaimed. ‘Lady Stoneway, Miss Lattimar, may I present Lord Halden Fitzroy-Price, youngest son of my good friend, the Duchess of Maidstone? Newly come down from university, and waiting to be appointed to an ecclesiastical post!’

He made them a bow as impeccably tailored as his coat—which was cut in the latest style, tightly nipped in at the waist with flaring tails. ‘Ladies, honoured to make your acquaintance.’

The glance he gave them was politely brief—until, to Pru’s gratification, it returned to linger on her. ‘Miss Lattimar, Mrs Dalwoody is quite right. You are an Incomparable! Why have I not encountered you in London? I believe my friends must have been deliberately keeping you from me, to hoard this treasure for themselves!’

Pru knew her cheeks must be pinking at his gallantry, but she replied calmly, ‘You must not think so slightingly of your friends, Lord Halden. I’ve not yet been presented in London.’

‘Ah, that explains it, for I should never have forgotten so enchanting a face. Won’t you stroll with me, so we might repair Fortune’s lapse?’

Still a little dazed by his magnificence, at her aunt’s encouraging nod, Pru placed her hand on his sleeve. ‘You are newly come from university, you said. Which one?’

‘Cambridge. I’m not the most downy of scholars,’ he acknowledged with a deprecating glance designed to be disarming, ‘but I did well enough that, as Lady Wentworth said, my cousin, the Earl of Riding, has promised me one of the livings in his gift.’

‘Younger sons must make their own way,’ she acknowledged, firmly yanking her thoughts away from another more scandalous and all-too-attractive younger son who’d been making his own way in the world. ‘You had no taste for the army, I take it.’

He grimaced. ‘With the wars ended, there’d be no way to distinguish oneself by bravery, and who would want to be posted in some colonial backwater, enduring the heat of India, or the storms and humidity of the Indies? No, I fear I’m just a solid Englishman, perfectly content to never leave these shores.’

She curbed the impulse to reply that she would love to explore beyond England’s shores. And squelched the whisper of scepticism that said he was telling her what he thought she’d prefer to hear.

Why wouldn’t he? He’d probably been raised from his nurse’s knee to make himself agreeable in company.

Instead, she smiled and said, ‘Why would a true Englishman want to be anywhere else?’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

‘A political career didn’t interest you, either?’

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘Pandering to a lot of rabble in a clutch of grubby villages to win yourself a seat in Parliament? Decidedly not. And as for the government—well, a career in the diplomatic service is likely to land you at some point in the heat of India or the humidity and storms of the tropics! I’ll keep my feet firmly planted in English soil. What about you? Testing your wings in the placid pool of Bath before venturing into the treacherous waters of London?’

‘Something like that.’ Knowing there could never be any successful union without complete honesty, she added, ‘If you know anything of my...family situation, you would know that being in Bath is...more suitable now.’

He frowned and her heart sank. Rather than honestly acknowledging her circumstances, if he truly was unaware of them, had she blundered into making him suspicious that she was not as blameless a young maiden as she appeared before they’d hardly begun to get acquainted?

Then his face cleared and he smiled. ‘I suppose we all have skeletons in the cupboard. Let’s speak of something more pleasant. I take it from the ladies’ greetings that you are only recently arrived. Has your aunt subscribed you to the balls at the Assembly Rooms? Quite refined, although of course nothing to rival London.’

‘I believe she has.’

‘Excellent. I shall count upon the pleasure of leading you into a dance at the next cotillion ball, then.’

The sound of boisterous voices ahead drew their attention. They both looked over to see a group of soldiers entering, one of whom, scanning the room, spotted them and gave a wave. ‘Fitzroy-Price, old fellow,’ he cried, leading the group over. ‘Just knew there had to be someone among all these octogenarians with red blood in his veins.’

‘And the prettiest girl in the room on his arm,’ one of his companions observed.

‘Well, don’t just stand there!’ the first one said. ‘Introduce us!’

‘I’m not sure your chaperon would thank me for making these rascals known to you,’ Lord Halden said, looking uncertainly at the newcomers. But after several raised their voices, protesting his unfairness, he capitulated. ‘Miss Lattimar, may I present Lieutenant Lord Chalmondy Dawson, a friend from childhood, and Lieutenants Trevor Broadmere and Austen Truro, whom I know from university. One could hardly find a more capital group of fellows—for rousting about. But how do you come to be here?’

While Dawson explained the unit containing the former college mates had set up an encampment to conduct training exercises west of the city, and had come into town in search of some jollity, Pru’s eye was caught by a moving flash of scarlet as another soldier entered the Pump Room. He, too, looked around and then beckoned for a uniformed man already in the room to come join him.

Lieutenant Johnnie Trethwell.

After a short exchange, the newcomer plucked Trethwell by the sleeve and led him towards their group.

Pru drew in a sharp breath. Would Trethwell greet her by name—revealing she was already acquainted with just the sort of experienced adventurer society would assume a girl of scandalous reputation would seek out, reinforcing the image she was trying so hard to dispel?

While she waited, almost dizzy with anxiety, looking away as the two men approached, another soldier called out to the approaching men, greetings and genial insults being exchanged after the newcomers arrived. Even though she’d been deliberately ignoring him, the wave of awareness Trethwell generated when he grew near telegraphed his presence.

While she struggled with that, Trethwell’s companion said, ‘Lord Halden! Heard you’d landed here after bouncing out of Cambridge. Persona non grata with the pater in London now, are you?’ he added with a laugh—which her escort acknowledged with a thin smile.

‘Lieutenant Markingham, Miss Lattimar,’ Lord Halden said. ‘Always did have an acid tongue. And...’ He paused, his eyes scanning the Lieutenant.

‘You’re not acquainted with Trethwell?’ Markingham asked.

‘Trethwell?’ Lord Halden repeated—while the adventurer, whose amused expression, after a glance at her face, faded to a mask of politeness, stood by silently. ‘Sounds familiar. Ah, yes! Isn’t that the family name of the Marquess of Barkley?’

‘It is,’ Trethwell replied.

‘Then I was at Cambridge with your brother, James. Lord Halden Fitzroy-Price,’ he said, according the soldier the slightest of bows. ‘You are the scapegrace youngest brother who ended up in the army, I take it?’

Did Pru see or only imagine the flicker of anger in Trethwell’s eyes before his lips quirked in amusement? ‘At your service,’ he drawled, returning a much more elaborate bow.

‘I sincerely hope not,’ Lord Halden said. ‘Miss Lattimar, if I may escort you back to your aunt? I fear she would consider these rowdy comrades less than suitable companions for an innocent young lady.’

Ignoring the boos and laughter his dismissive comment created, the Duke’s son clasped her arm and led her off.

‘Sorry to be so presumptuous, Miss Lattimar,’ he said. ‘Most of that group were questionable enough. But your aunt would likely chastise me soundly were she to learn that I’d had the bad judgement to introduce you to a Trethwell. With the Lieutenant’s eldest brother holding so elevated a title, the family is still received, even though rumour says their estate is mortgaged to the hilt. But the younger brothers are penniless rakes to a man, with the Lieutenant reputed to be the most infamous of the lot.’

On the one hand, as a member of an infamous family herself, Pru could sympathise with the anger she glimpsed beneath Trethwell’s mocking tone and exaggerated bow. She knew all too well what it was like to be tarred with the same brush for a relative’s transgressions. On the other, she could hardly fault Lord Halden for trying to protect her reputation.

Would he be so concerned, once he learned about her circumstances? Or would he conclude that she no longer deserved such consideration?

She hoped he would end up being as fair as Lieutenant Trethwell. She didn’t yet know enough about Lord Halden’s character to accurately judge whether or not they would suit. But if he should decide to pursue her, she couldn’t fail to recognise that he didn’t just fulfil, but wildly exceeded, every requirement on her list.

He wasn’t only a respectable gentleman, but one of high degree, from an ancient family.

He wasn’t going to pursue a career in the rough and tumble of politics, which would require residing for months in the gossip hotbed of London, or interested in the army, which would take him from home for months or years at a time. No, he, like many a younger son, appeared to be destined for the church.

Waiting to receive an appointment, probably in some charming village far removed from the stench and bustle of the capital. Where as part of his living, he’d receive a fine manor house, doubtless with a large garden and enough income from grand and lesser tithes to employ a small staff of servants and live a comfortable life.

What more effective way to polish a tarnished reputation to gleaming brightness than to become a clergyman’s wife? Making rounds of the parish, calling on the sick, taking care of the lost and needy, and performing other good works?

Of course, it was a very large leap from a simple introduction and a man’s far-too-common admiration for her pretty face to mutual esteem, love and marriage.

But he had liked her pretty face. She intended to use that attraction to lure him into getting to know her better.

A vicar’s wife, respected, honoured and beloved by the community, she thought again, a glow warming her heart. For the first time since hearing of her mother’s latest scandal, Pru began to hope she might free herself from the shackles of her past after all.

Chapter Three

Two days later, Prudence Lattimar strolled with her aunt through Sidney Gardens in the pleasant morning sunshine. Though a few of the highest sticklers refused to receive her, Lady Stoneway and her friend Mrs Marsden had done their work well. By now, she’d been presented to pretty much everyone currently residing in Bath with any pretentions to gentility.

Unfortunately, her sister’s dismissive remark about the calibre of the resident bachelors had been all too correct. Even Aunt Gussie had admitted herself rather disappointed at how thin on the ground eligible bachelors were, comparing the current landscape unfavourably with what the city had been like thirty years ago, when she’d been a single young miss.

‘You could find almost as many eligible partis walking in the gardens here as you might find strolling in Hyde Park,’ Aunt Gussie murmured, shaking her head as they passed yet another old gentleman being wheeled around in a chair. ‘There were, to be sure, a contingent of the elderly and infirm come to drink the waters, but a large number of the Upper Ten Thousand also chose to spend the Season here! Well, we shall just have to do the best we can with what’s available.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Pru replied, her voice lowered to a murmur, ‘isn’t that Lord Halden, walking with the older woman over there?’

‘It is indeed!’ Aunt Gussie said, her face brightening. ‘That’s his mother’s cousin, Lady Isabelle Dudley. Keeps a house here as well as in London, generally residing at one or the other for most of the year. Apparently she doesn’t much like the country, even though her husband’s estate, Cliffacres, reputedly rivals Blenheim Palace. An earl’s daughter who married a commoner, but one from an old and fabulously wealthy family, it’s said she makes all her extended family dance to her tune.’

Pru’s hopes in Lord Halden’s direction took a plunge. Just what she needed—someone else who would probably dismiss her without a glance because of her mother. ‘A high stickler?’

Aunt Gussie chuckled. ‘No, just a tyrant. She caused her share of on dits in her day! A Beauty who had half the men of the ton dangling after her before she settled on Dudley.’

Prudence cut a covert glance towards the woman, noting the high cheekbones and tall, elegant figure that testified to how lovely Lady Isabelle must have been in her prime. She looked exactly as Aunt Gussie had described her: rich, handsome—and reigning regally over her family.

‘Reformed sinners are usually more disapproving than most of those they consider to have fallen off the straight and narrow,’ Pru observed.

‘Perhaps. But it’s also said her primary qualification when evaluating possible wives for “her boys” is fortune,’ Aunt Gussie said. ‘Shall we go greet them, my dear? If Lady Isabelle is determined to blight your chances with the most attractive marriage prospect currently in Bath, better to discover that early rather than late, so we may shift our focus elsewhere.’

The image of a certain tawny-haired lieutenant flashed into her head before she dismissed it. Even with Lord Halden eliminated from consideration, the globe-trekking Johnnie Trethwell wouldn’t make her list of desirable prospects. Better to concentrate her efforts on the sort of respectable country gentlemen she sought.

‘True enough.’ Bracing herself for what might be a humiliating set-down, Pru laid her hand on her aunt’s arm, summoned a smile, and prepared to brave the lion.

‘Lady Isabelle, Lord Halden, good morning,’ Aunt Gussie said as they caught up to the couple. After exchanging bows and curtsies, Aunt Gussie continued, ‘Lady Isabelle, may I present to you my niece, Miss Prudence Lattimar?’

After her scanning her so thoroughly, Pru felt like a prize cow whose worth was being assessed by an auctioneer, the older woman gave her a nod. ‘Miss Lattimar. My young cousin, Lord Halden, was just telling me how he’d met you in the Pump Room yesterday, and been charmed. Now I see why.’

Pru exhaled a shaky breath. Though Lady Isabelle most assuredly knew her history, evidently she’d passed muster anyway. Even better, Lord Halden’s relation would have fully acquainted him with her circumstances. If he knew them, and still found her ‘charming’, the biggest obstacle to developing a relationship with him had just been hurdled.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she silently thanked her father for being such a careful curator of his vast wealth.

‘You’ve just come from London, haven’t you?’ Lady Isabelle said. ‘Walk with me, Lady Stoneway. You can acquaint me with all the latest happenings while these young people become better acquainted.’

That was so bald, Prudence had a hard time not blushing. The auctioneer, turning the prime merchandise over to the potential buyer. Dutifully taking the arm Lord Halden offered, she tried to settle her nerves.

Once they were a short distance down the pathway, she said, ‘I hope you don’t feel coerced into escorting me.’

The Duke’s son laughed. ‘My cousin isn’t very subtle, is she? Completely accustomed to getting her own way, too, so there’s little use trying to resist her. However, I don’t need any coercion to walk with the most beautiful lady in Bath.’

Gratified, she smiled. ‘You are very kind. I understand Lady Isabelle has a house here. Are you staying with her?’

‘No. Not that she wouldn’t have me,’ he added. After that curious statement, he continued, ‘It would be rather...restricting to live under the roof of someone bound to observe every detail of your comings and goings. A man needs a little freedom, after all.’

Prudence suppressed another pang of envy. If he considered living in his cousin’s house chafing, he should try being an unmarried young woman of suspect character, whose every word and movement were scrutinised. Trying to summon up some sympathy, she said, ‘Yes, a young man should be able to stay out late playing a hand of cards or finishing a fine ale, without having someone waiting on him, watching a clock.’

‘Exactly!’ he exclaimed, looking on her with approval. ‘I’m so glad you’re not one of those missish girls, who thinks I should stay at home with my cousin, holding her yarn while she knits, or something equally rubbishy.’

He stiffened when Pru, after trying to suppress a giggle, finally laughed. ‘Sorry, I simply can’t envision you dutifully hefting a skein of yarn! Does she knit?’

Relaxing, Lord Halden grinned. ‘Heavens, I don’t know. If she does, the stitches had better do what she tells them.’

Prudence shook her head. ‘Alas, mine never do.’

‘Not a needlewoman?’

A potential clergyman’s wife would be expected to knit and sew for the unfortunate, she realised in a flash. ‘I confess I’m not the most talented, but I am committed to doing better.’ She bit her tongue to avoid adding, Despite the fact that I detest needlework and would much prefer to be outside, riding or mucking about in the garden.

‘What amusements do you favour?’ she asked instead, preferring to bring the focus back to him and avoid any potentially damaging questions about her other interests—or her too interesting, scandalous family.

‘Besides drinking and cards?’ he riposted, still smiling. ‘I’m quite enthusiastic about horseflesh. There’s nothing finer than a prime beast in full gallop, outstripping all the others on some track! Or on the hunting field. I generally spend the entire hunting season following one or another of the best hunts. Lady Isabelle rents a box at Melton Mowbray, and we get to the Belvoir as well.’

‘You must be a capital rider, then.’

‘Oh, yes. Sat my first pony when I was only three. Evaluate and purchase all my own mounts, too. Wouldn’t leave so important a task to some groom!’

‘Have you acquired any new horses lately?’

That simple question was enough to set him off on an enthusiastic recital of the merits and fine points of the perfectly matched pair of blacks he’d just purchased for his new high-perch phaeton, several hunters he was currently training for the upcoming season, and the flashy, high-stepping chestnut he kept for riding in Hyde Park.

Her contributions to the conversation limited to an occasional ‘Oh, my!’ or ‘How excellent!’ they’d made almost a complete circuit of the main pathway before he paused for breath.

‘I dare say, it’s capital to discover a young lady who appreciates horseflesh,’ he said at last, giving her hand a hearty squeeze.

Before she could think of an appropriate response that wouldn’t set him off again, the group of soldiers they’d seen in the Pump Room the day she met him rounded a corner.

‘Lord Halden, well met!’ Lieutenant Lord Chalmondy cried. ‘And Miss Lattimar. How lovely you look.’

After giving Pru an inspection that lingered on her bosom so long she felt her face colouring, he murmured to his companions, ‘What a hot little charmer she is, eh, boys?’

A flash of anger deepened the heat. Evidently Lord Chalmondy thought that, in the open air of the park, surrounded by his companions, he could get away with a crude remark he would never have chanced having overheard within the proper confines of the Pump Room.

Either not hearing or not realising how insulting the comment was, Lord Halden said, ‘With this pack of half-wits about you, no wonder you were looking for some clever company.’

Lord Chalmondy laughed. ‘There is that. But there’s also some capital sport going on this afternoon.’ He lowered his voice, although not so low that he wasn’t perfectly aware she could still hear him. ‘A cockfight down at the Mare’s Tail and then a sparring match between the local champion and a man from Liverpool. Supposedly he used to work the looms in some factory. A regular bruiser! Should be a prime dust-up.’

‘No gentleman with red blood still running in his veins would want to miss it,’ Lieutenant Broadmere said.

‘Sounds like just the thing for you soldiers to while away a dull afternoon,’ Lord Halden said.

‘Zounds, man, we’re on our way now. Why not come with us?’ Lord Chalmondy gave Pru another leering glance. ‘You’ll have all evening to charm the ladies. Or do you feel you may need a glass of Pump Room water to make it through the day?’

Lord Halden hesitated, obviously drawn by the prospect of sport—and unwilling to be thought less virile than his former university mates. ‘Very well,’ he conceded after a moment. ‘Just let me escort this lady back to her aunt.’

There was a snigger and Pru was certain she heard one of them mutter ‘lady?’ in a contemptuous undertone.

Giving her another appraising glance that said exactly what he thought about her character, Lord Chalmondy said, ‘Good heavens, it’s mid-morning in a public park. I think Miss Lattimar is clever enough to find her way back without your help. Aren’t you, Miss Lattimar?’

Resisting the strong urge to slap the mocking smile off his face, Pru hesitated. No gentleman, having received permission to take a young lady for a stroll, would go off to do something else until he’d returned her safely to her chaperon. Lord Chalmondy was making it quite clear that, though her fortune might have rendered her acceptable to Lord Halden’s cousin, this duke’s son did not consider her deserving of being treated as a gently born maiden should be.

He was obviously fully aware of her reputation, and would treat her—at least where there was no one from society to reprove him—as one of the Scandal Sisters.

Furious, but determined not to let it show, she said, ‘Clever enough to need no further encouragement to quit the company of gentlemen such as yourself.’