Kitabı oku: «A Most Unsuitable Match», sayfa 4

‘Unlike you, who are a real soldier?’

Grief and pain twisted in his gut. Fortunately, she could have no idea the cost of being a ‘real’ soldier, he thought before he shut down the memories and summoned a smile. ‘Now you’ve caught me being as dismissive of them as they were of me! I admit, I have something of a distaste for Fitzroy-Price’s ilk. I served under too many colonial officials whose chief qualification for the job was their papa’s elevated title or connections. However, though I may have spent most of my adult life outside England, even I am not too dim to recognise that wedding the son of a duke must top even “wealthy”, “young” and “charming” on every fond mama’s list of the sort of husband she’d choose for her daughter.’

She nodded. ‘He would be accounted a prime catch. Especially for someone like me.’

He frowned. ‘Someone like you?’

‘Yes. He’s to receive a living from his uncle, Aunt Gussie tells me. How better to redeem my reputation, than to become the blameless wife of a clergyman?’ Her enthusiasm faded a bit. ‘Though I would hope he would learn not to be drawn in by rough companions and to treat all people with more respect. But he’s young. His solemn role as a spiritual advisor will mature him and endow him with wisdom and compassion, I’m sure.’

With an effort, Johnnie restrained himself from rolling his eyes. In his experience, pampered, wealthy young men went on to become self-important, pompous older men, supremely confident in their superiority and disdainful of the rabble—which included most everyone else in society—beneath them.

But, as young and sheltered from the world as unmarried maidens were, Miss Lattimar had probably not yet learned that lesson. It wasn’t really his place to teach her.

While he worked hard to keep from expressing his opinion, Miss Lattimar said, ‘Enough of Lord Halden. Might I ask you a question?’

Primed now to expect almost anything, he immediately replied, ‘Of course! Although if it deals with society, I can’t promise to have the expertise to accurately answer it.’

‘You absolutely have expertise about this society! I’ve never seen more of the world than our estate in Northumberland, the town house in London and the little I’ve experienced so far of Bath. I’m so envious of the travels and the adventures you’ve had! Please, can you tell me what it was like, living in India?’

‘Tell you about India?’ he echoed, surprised. ‘Ladies usually beg to hear about storms at sea, or pirates. Generally, only men ask me about India.’ And then, mostly for tales about the women.

‘I’m sure you’re a marvellous storyteller. And I truly would like to hear about your life there.’

‘Very well, India. Let me see if I can pick out the bits best suited for a maiden of your tender years.’

She giggled. ‘Oh, no! I want to hear all the spicy bits, too!’

Did she have any idea how irresistible she was? he thought, totally charmed. ‘All right, then. Let me see if I can find bits spicy enough to titillate you without losing whatever credit I might have with your aunt for protecting you on your walk back.’

Quickly searching through memory to select a story that might entertain her without veering into the salacious, he launched into a description of the grand procession in the State of the Nawab of Surat in which troops from his regiment had participated. ‘After the termination of the fast of Ramadan, one of the holiest events in the Muslim year, the Nawab ordered a grand parade from his durbar to the principal mosque. A select few of us British regulars marched after him, followed by elephants and camels carrying kettle-drummers and musicians, local men on horseback, their mounts as richly dressed as they were, and finally a state palankeen bearing representatives of the East India Company, members of the ruling British council, the Governor of the castle and the Admiral of the Mogul’s fleet, all in dress uniform. Ah, the noise of the excited crowds calling and hooting, the women ululating, the tramp of boots, hooves and elephant feet! The sound of the drums and the strange melodies of the native lutes, the scent of marigolds, incense, perfume—and dung. And clouds of dust, enveloping us and coating our mouths and uniforms.’

She laughed, her eyes shining. ‘You describe it so vividly I can almost hear it—and smell it! You are a marvellous storyteller! My twin sister, Temperance, who has a great desire to explore foreign places, has collected all the travel journals and memoirs she can find, but hearing such episodes described by someone who actually lived them is so much more fascinating than merely reading about them. Tell me more!’

So he did, secretly delighted when she begged him to continue his tales through one more circuit around the park before he returned her to her aunt.

When they finally turned down the pathway and saw Lady Stoneway and another matron sitting on a bench, her rapt expression faded. ‘I hate it that it isn’t wise for me to associate with you. It was so...energising to talk about something truly interesting, rather than having to confine my remarks to innocuous observations on the weather, or monosyllabic murmurs of appreciation for whatever a gentleman is prosing on about!’

‘Good heavens! Is that what you have to do to look respectable?’ When she nodded, he shook his head. ‘How...stifling. And how much I admire you!’

She gave him a sharp look. ‘It isn’t polite to mock.’

‘No, I’m entirely serious! It’s fortunate I have no desire to mingle in polite society, for I probably wouldn’t last half an hour before I got thrown out on my ear. I’m far too prone to ignore convention and say exactly what I think, hang the consequences.’ He chuckled. ‘Which, probably, is why I was never a success at school and the Army in India looked askance on me. I ask too many questions and probe into too many areas they would prefer left unexplored.’

Miss Lattimar smiled—and she really was temptation incarnate when she smiled, he thought. A soldier ought to get a medal for bravery or restraint for resisting the completely understandable urge to kiss her senseless on the spot.

‘My governess was for ever warning me and Temperance against doing that,’ she was saying. ‘Although Temper is so much braver and bolder than I am. She does tell people what she thinks. Defies them about casting us in the image of our mother, too, instead of trying to deflect them and please everyone, like I do.’

‘It takes self-control and admirable discipline to limit what one says. Particularly when the comment one struggles to suppress is bang on the mark. I’d say that makes you the one who is strong and brave.’

She looked startled, as if she’d never thought that of herself. ‘How kind of you to say so! I only wish I could believe it. Much as I try to be perfectly behaved, so that society will come to believe I am not my mother, I must confess, sometimes I feel like giving up the effort. Abandoning prudence and caution, raising my skirts and running through Sidney Gardens shrieking, just to see the look on some censorious matron’s face. Or stripping off my stockings and wading in the fountain—like Temper and I used to wade in the river at home.’

‘Probably best to suppress such impulses,’ he said—even as it pained him to think she felt compelled to restrain that bright, exuberant spirit. ‘I doubt they would be considered very suitable in a vicar’s wife.’

He regretted the words immediately, for they extinguished the merriment on her face in an instant. ‘I might be able to wade in a fountain, in the privacy of my own garden, with my children accompanying me,’ she said after a moment.

‘I hope you will.’ Yet, he couldn’t help a probably futile wish that somehow, she would avoid a fate that, to him, seemed destined to lock her for ever in a role where her natural charm and zest for life would be straitjacketed.

Just beyond speaking distance from her aunt, she stopped, as if she needed to armour herself to return to the world of rules and subterfuge. Lips parted, she gazed over at him, regret at having to part and longing on her face.

A wave of desire swept through him to carry her away from the propriety-bound world she was about to re-enter, off somewhere they could be alone. Where he might succumb to the urge to kiss her that had dogged him from the moment he saw her again.

From the widening of her eyes and the little intake of breath, he knew she felt that sensual pull as strongly as he did. And he was as helpless to resist it as a cobra hypnotised by a mongoose.

Giving him a tiny negative shake of her head, as if wordlessly acknowledging both the desire and the impossibility of indulging it, she said, ‘I have to go back.’

‘To the world of society and its rules.’

‘Yes. But I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed our walk. Maybe...maybe we can find a way to walk together again in future. I imagine my aunt will be fatigued and want to return home at once, so I’ll say good day to you now, Lieutenant.’

He bowed. ‘And to you, Miss Lattimar.’

They had nearly reached the bench on which both women sat before their approach was noticed. ‘Prudence—and Lieutenant Trethwell?’ Lady Stoneway said, looking both surprised and confused.

‘Miss Lattimar!’ the other woman exclaimed. ‘Where is my cousin?’

‘Lord Halden...encountered a group of friends, who pressed him to accompany him immediately on a...a mission of some importance.’

‘But—he just left you, unaccompanied?’ Lady Stoneway cried.

‘Fortunately, Lieutenant Trethwell was at hand to make sure I returned safely,’ Miss Lattimar said, giving him a quick, silent plea that he not contradict her slight alteration of events.

His lips tightening, he understood all too well. He’d already overheard some salacious remarks made about her by several of the soldiers joking with Fitzroy-Price that day in the Pump Room. Men who spoke of her like that would have no compulsion about insulting her by carrying off her escort and leaving her to fend for herself.

But it didn’t say much for her escort that he’d agreed.

No wonder she’d been looking so dejected when he came upon her!

‘Well, Lord Halden shouldn’t have left me here, without proper escort back to my house!’ the other matron said angrily. ‘And so I shall tell him, when next I see him. Careless boy!’

Johnnie’s cynicism deepened. He had no idea of the identity of the overdressed, self-important woman with Miss Lattimar’s aunt, but she conducted herself just like the wives of the high-ranking men he’d known in India. Concerned only with her own consequence and well-being, sparing not a thought for the beautiful young woman her cousin had left alone, vulnerable to attack by any ruffian who might have come upon her. No matter how unlikely it was that a ruffian would be roaming about Sidney Gardens on a sunny morning.

‘Shall we all walk together to engage a sedan chair, Lady Isabelle?’ Lady Stoneway suggested. ‘I’m sure that’s what Lord Halden expected we would do.’

The matron visibly brightened. ‘You are right, Lady Stoneway. Of course that’s what my cousin must have thought. No need of him to keep his friends waiting, when we might escort each other.’

‘Before we go, Aunt Gussie, don’t you want to thank Lieutenant Trethwell for making sure I came to no harm?’ Miss Lattimar said, her voice calm, but something steely in her eyes. ‘And present him to Lady Isabelle?’

Lady Stoneway looked uncertain for a moment before nodding assent. ‘You are quite right, Prudence. I do thank you for safeguarding my niece, Lieutenant. Lady Isabelle, may I make you acquainted with Lieutenant Lord John Trethwell? His elder brother, as you may know, is now Marquess of Barkley.’

Lady Isabelle’s cool expression indicated she knew exactly who he was and, for a moment, Johnnie wondered if she were debating whether or not to give him the cut direct. Which wouldn’t bother him in the slightest, except for the embarrassment it would certainly cause Lady Stoneway and Miss Lattimar.

The latter, he noted with no little amusement, despite her self-professed craven submission to society and its dictates, was staring almost defiantly at Lady Isabelle, as if daring her to refuse the introduction.

Not at all to his surprise, the older woman capitulated—barely. ‘Lieutenant,’ she acknowledged with the slightest incline of her head.

‘Lady Isabelle,’ he replied, offering a bow considerably more polite than the one he’d given Lord Halden.

‘Shall we be off?’ Lady Stoneway said, obviously reluctant to press her luck any further with the matron. Her aunt’s kindness—and concern for Miss Lattimar’s status—were the only reasons Johnnie resisted the urge to further tweak Lady Isabelle by insisting he accompany them.

‘I should be going myself,’ he said, with an ironic quirk of his lip. ‘Good day to you all. Miss Lattimar,’ he added, unable to stop himself as they turned. ‘Safeguarding you was a pleasure.’

Her eyes lit up and the smile she gave him was pure enchantment. ‘I very much appreciated it,’ she replied, before taking her aunt’s arm and walking off, Lady Isabelle beside them.

Johnnie stood and watched them until her lovely figure disappeared from view.

Reviewing his impressions after their second meeting, Johnnie found Miss Lattimar’s appeal had only increased. Along with the physical attraction he would expect her beauty to evoke in any red-blooded male, he’d felt an unexpected and disturbingly powerful connection on some deeper level. Having had a glimpse of the exuberant, uninhibited character she was trying to suppress—he chuckled, envisioning her, skirts held up, wading in the Sidney Garden fountain—he felt a strong urge to prompt her to be herself, without restraint. Even though the woman she became when she did so was not just more natural, she was even more devilishly attractive.

He sighed. He very much wished he could pursue her openly—in spite of the fact that he had never previously pursued, nor had any use for, a well-bred virgin. Following that trail led to marriage, something he had always avoided. Not just because he wasn’t sure, with the vast floral garden of the feminine beauty and charm the world had to offer, he’d be able to limit himself for a lifetime to plucking just one bloom.

He also knew his wanderlust nature too well and the chances that he’d ever want to stay for long in one place were slim. A good English wife would probably prefer a settled countryside home with a husband in it to look after her and any children. To offer marriage without being able to pledge that wouldn’t be fair to any lady, no matter how much she attracted him.

And when he travelled, he travelled alone. He’d witnessed first-hand the agony of someone who’d lost a beloved. He might sometimes be lonely enough to wish for a heart’s companion, but loneliness was an old friend, something he’d grown accustomed to enduring. Better to suffer a quiet flame than to open oneself to an all-consuming conflagration.

How unfortunate the enchanting Miss Lattimar wasn’t the worldly-wise Mrs Lattimar! Were she a dashing widow, he would have free rein to indulge in the delightful dance of desire. Sadly, seducing and then abandoning a well-born innocent was out of the question.

To experience the charm of Miss Lattimar’s intriguing personality, he was pretty sure he could settle for friendship—novel as the notion was of being merely a friend to a desirable woman. But if he respected her desire to change society’s perception of her from a scandalous young woman to a well-behaved, conventional Beauty, he couldn’t lure her into solitary rendezvous. No matter how attractive the prospect of amusing her with further tales of his exploits or exchanging philosophical observations on the world.

For the first time, he regretted spending his adulthood roaming the world, collecting the stories and lovers that made him unsuitable company for a girl trying to redeem her reputation.

Never one to dismiss a desired goal as impossible, he put aside for the moment the problem of how to become her friend without compromising that quest and shifted his focus to the next issue.

What about Lord Halden Fitzroy-Price?

He’d heard that the Duke’s son—handsome, well born, and behaving like he knew it—was languishing in Bath, supported by the beneficence of his rich cousin while he awaited a desirable sinecure as a cleric.

Johnnie might not be intimately acquainted with the inside of a church, but based on his few exchanges with the man, Lord Halden appeared to be less well suited than any individual he’d recently met to become a clergyman. Unless a parish wanted as pastor of their flock a self-important, arrogant man faintly contemptuous of those he believed were beneath him.

If that were truly his character, Johnnie wouldn’t want to see a lady as lovely, charming, and innocent of the ways of vice as Miss Lattimar wasting herself on him.

He stopped short, surprised at the ferocity of that feeling. Why should he feel so protective of a girl he barely knew?

He might have only met her twice, but her unique personality intrigued him. He genuinely liked her. Almost immediately, there had sprung up a sort of...kinship between them.

Maybe he felt so strongly because he understood all too well what it was like to be a member of a disreputable family, to be accused of the same faults and vices by people who knew nothing about one but the family name—Lord Halden’s dismissive remarks recurring to irritate him again.

He had no doubt whatsoever about his ability to best the Duke’s son and any of his toy-soldier compatriots, but a gently born female like Miss Lattimar had few weapons with which to counter their malice. The warrior in him naturally felt compelled to defend someone smaller and weaker.

For all those reasons—admiration, desire, anger on her behalf about how she was treated—he felt linked to Miss Lattimar by the same sort of bonds a soldier develops for his fellows, a loyalty that propels him to watch out for and protect others in battle, even at the risk of his own life.

Dismissing the ‘why’, his officer’s brain shifted to the ‘how’, mulling over the best strategy for his next move. He had to admit, having suffered slights and insults in the past from men of Fitzroy-Price’s rank and birth, the man’s position as a duke’s son automatically prejudiced Johnnie against him. He really ought to reserve judgement until he had observed him long enough to make a dispassionate assessment of the man’s character.

After a bit more reflection, he came up with a plan. It might, he thought with a grin, astonish his aunt, but it would also accomplish both the goal of keeping an eye on Fitzroy-Price and allowing Johnnie to satisfy his pressing desire to see more of the delectable Miss Lattimar, without risk to her reputation.

After all, even his aunt would have to admit that staying near enough to make sure Miss Lattimar came to no harm would be the noble act of a selfless friend.

Chapter Four

Returning to his aunt’s town house in Queen Square, Johnnie tracked down Aunt Pen in her private salon, where she was dozing, some needlework abandoned in her lap.

He paused on the threshold, his fond glance tracing over a figure that radiated confidence and independence even in sleep. Penelope Woodlings wasn’t just the most interesting of his relations, she was also the one who’d been least interested in society—and the sole encourager of an energetic young boy, youngest of a large brood and left to his own devices. The happiest memories of his childhood had been created while visiting her and her reclusive scholarly husband at their rambling country estate, joining her and her two sons in collecting rocks and bugs, chasing butterflies, climbing up trees after bird nests and crawling into dens to inspect the homes of badgers and foxes.

But it didn’t end with the quest. In the evenings, she sent the boys into the library to discover more about the treasures they’d uncovered. Along with finding out facts about rocks, frogs and trees, he’d stumbled across volumes of memoirs and travel journals.

Those accounts had awakened a keen interest in the world around him and a burning desire to explore it, not just England, but beyond her shores.

It had been Lady Woodlings, not his impecunious and uninterested family, who funded his Oxford education, equipped him for the army and continued to write him letters of encouragement that followed him on his adventures to India.

A wave of affection and gratitude washed over him as he watched her dozing. ‘Who will care for you, if I do not?’ she’d gruffly replied when he’d thanked her for taking him in after he’d dragged his lame and still fever-ridden body back from the subcontinent. In all his turbulent existence, she’d been the one rock he could count on, no matter how stormy the waves and winds of his life became.

Though she’d never been much interested in society, marrying over her family’s objections an unfashionable young scholar she’d pronounced the most intelligent of her suitors, she kept abreast of its news, as she followed all the developments in the world.

So of course, she’d known about Miss Lattimar’s family background. Being normally the most reasonable and least judgemental of individuals, he knew it was her desire to protect him that made her urge him to court any wealthy lady but that one, whose purported propensity for infidelity might break his heart if he were unwise enough to fall in love with her.

But then, Aunt Pen had no idea of the true character of the lady. He would just have to see that she discovered it.

As he cleared his throat loudly, she startled, her eyes flying open.

‘Johnnie, you’re back. How was your walk? You didn’t push that leg too hard, now, did you?’

Probably. ‘I don’t think so. Did you have a good visit with your friends?’

‘Just a comfortable coze with some old acquaintances from my come-out days.’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘Still occupying their time with society events and gossip, and trying to lure me into doing the same.’

‘Maybe you should attend more society events. The Subscription Balls, for example. Some concerts and plays.’ He paused. ‘I’d be happy to escort you.’

Any lingering drowsiness dissipated in an instant. ‘You would be willing to escort me? Into society, where you might meet some eligible ladies?’

‘I did some thinking during my long walk. Perhaps it’s time I took more part in respectable society. After all, it’s not fair to dismiss it as a boring waste of my time when I left England before I could ever truly become involved in it.’ Though I saw enough of its copy in India to know it doesn’t interest me.

‘So you no longer fear that participating will make it look like you wish to find a wife? Excellent!’ Aunt Pen exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. ‘I would be happy to go about more! There are some events which aren’t too dreadful. Balls—I’ve always enjoyed dancing. But do you think, with your—?’

‘I can manage,’ he cut her off.

‘Balls, then, and supper events at which dancing will follow. Concerts, if the performer is proficient. I promise, no evenings listening to some young female with more elegance than musical talent! And theatre, if the play and the company are good. I wouldn’t drag you to some dreary event I wouldn’t enjoy myself.’

‘Thank you. So...’ he paused ‘...could you apply for Subscription tickets. Today, perhaps?’

‘Today? Even better!’ Looking delighted, she said, ‘You know I hope you may meet some charming, rich young lady who will persuade you to remain in England, although of course you need not do so, unless...’ Her enthusiastic speech trailing off, she tilted her head, inspecting him with suspicion. ‘Why this sudden anxiety to get started?’

Before he could come up with an innocuous introduction of his intent—for she was sure to balk, if he began by admitting the only reason he was doing this was to be able to encounter Prudence Lattimar—she crossed her arms over her ample bosom and looked accusingly at him.

‘This is about her, isn’t it? That Lattimar chit!’

He might have known she would be downy enough to figure it out. ‘Yes,’ he confessed. ‘I was about to explain, Aunt Pen. I know what it is to be condemned on the basis of your family’s reputation, before you yourself have uttered a word. Miss Lattimar has scarcely been out in society yet and I’ve already heard...insulting remarks made about her by gentlemen who’ve not even met her. Which, I admit, rouses my fighting instincts.’

While she stood, arms crossed, looking dubious, he continued, ‘Come now, be fair, Aunt Pen! Shouldn’t she have a chance to prove her reputation one way or another, before those who would condemn her ruin her ability to form a connection based on her true character? I’d like to be around to keep the riffraff away and let her have that chance. Since the only way I could do that without making matters worse for her would be under the watchful eye of that censorious society, I’ll have to endure it—put up with the silly, petty rules and the boredom.’

‘She accomplished a great deal in one little walk around the Pump Room. Aroused your sympathy and enlisted your support!’

Not thinking it prudent to mention their recent stroll in Sidney Gardens, he replied, ‘No, you’re wrong. She made no attempt to recite some sad tale to arouse my sympathy—I simply observed how others treat her. Nor did she ever ask for my support. This campaign is my idea alone and she knows nothing about it. Yet, of course.’ He laughed. ‘She knows being seen with me anywhere else would serve to confirm, rather than refute, the reputation she is trying to overcome. Only with your approval, and in the full glare of society, would my attempts to help her not end up doing the opposite.’

‘I don’t care a fig about her reputation!’ his aunt returned with some heat. ‘It’s your future that concerns me and I’d not favour you doing anything that might end up hurting you—like tying yourself to a known wanton. Any other lady of modest reputation would be fine.’

She fixed a concerned glance on him. ‘You must have some source of income and the safest way I know to do that is for you to marry one. I know I’ll only be able to coax you to stay with me until your leg has recovered and I really don’t want to see you go back to adventuring all over the globe. Trading for treasure! That might take you into areas even more dangerous than the Army would.’

‘I am not keen on pitching myself needlessly into danger,’ he admitted. ‘But neither do I think I could stand to be leg-shackled to a country estate and a town house in London—however bewitching the owner.’

‘Marriage doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be tied down to England,’ she argued. ‘It’s always possible you might find a girl who’d be willing to go adventuring with you. Adventuring which would be a great deal more comfortable if you had adequate funds to fuel the journey!’

‘I hope to obtain those funds another way,’ he countered. ‘But finding a wife who’d go with me?’ He shook his head dismissively—and then felt a rush of enthusiasm as the image of Miss Lattimar’s beautiful face flashed into his head. Now that was a travelling companion who would truly excite him.

Too bad her dearest wish was to settle in some quiet English village, raising children and chickens while her husband wrote sermons.

Then again, much safer for her to remain in the peaceful English countryside, far from attack by dacoits and deadly diseases. Safer for him, not to risk finding a travelling partner who might truly capture his heart, promising desolation if he should somehow lose her.

Shaking off that disturbing thought, he said, ‘You can’t honestly think some sheltered ton miss who can hardly abide being stuck in the country, deprived of the shops and entertainments of London for several months a year, would be willing to go adventuring to some primitive hinterland?’

‘Well, it’s not impossible. I would happily have accompanied Everard on a journey to Greece and Egypt, if he’d had an urge to study the antiquities in situ.’

‘Ah, but you are a most unusual female, Aunt Pen.’

Pinking at the compliment, she opened her lips to speak, then fell silent. His always-honest aunt couldn’t refute the fact that she was probably the only female of her acquaintance who would be willing to undertake such a journey.

Before she could marshal her forces for a new attack, he said, ‘Won’t having me out and about at society events, keeping an eye out for Miss Lattimar, provide me a better chance of finding this rich but adventure-seeking paragon you talk about?’

‘Considering you’ve hardly done more than accompany me to Sidney Gardens and occasionally to the Pump Room, I expect it would,’ she allowed.

‘Exactly. But I won’t put myself to the pains of behaving through a long series of probably uninteresting events unless you will allow, if not support, my intention of talking and dancing with Miss Lattimar. It’s all or nothing.’

His aunt sat for some minutes, frowning at him, her desire to bring eligible females to his attention obviously warring with her goal of preventing his further association with the dangerous Miss Lattimar.

As he’d expected, the inducement of having him meet someone more acceptable won out. ‘Very well. You may present me to her and I will endeavour to be polite. However, if she displays the slightest sign that she might be embroiling you in a scandal, I’ll carry you off to Woodhaven myself!’

Chuckling, he leaned over to kiss her forehead. ‘We’ve a bargain, then?’

‘We have. Off with you, now. I need to write notes to some friends who said they’ll be holding entertainments, so they know to send us both an invitation.’