Книга - Lord Exmouth’s Intentions

Lord Exmouth's Intentions
ANNE ASHLEY


A young woman disappears. A husband is suspected of murder. Stirring times for all the neighborhood.Demure vicar's daughter Robina Percival has relished her Season in Town–a definite change for the better after her somewhat straitened situation at home. But what is she to make of Daniel, Lord Exmouth? A widower with two daughters to raise, he appears to be in the market for a wife. Discovering that she has more spirit than she realized, Robina holds back from encouraging her potential suitor. How can she be sure he hasn't buried his heart with his beautiful wife?Regency DramaIntrigue, mischief…and marriageThe Steepwood Scandal









“The reverend’s delightful daughter would make me an ideal wife.”


“And so she would!” his mother agreed, not reluctant to add her voice to those that in recent weeks had urged the personable Lord Exmouth to seriously consider taking the matrimonial plunge once again. “She is without doubt the sweetest-natured girl you could ever wish to meet.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that,” he agreed amicably.

“She is compliant and delightful. She would never interfere with your pleasure, or cause you the least concern.”

“I should wish to know her a little better before voicing an opinion on certain aspects of her character. I strongly suspect that Miss Robina Percival possesses rather more spirit than most people realize.”




Lord Exmouth’s Intentions

Anne Ashley





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ANNE ASHLEY


was born and educated in Leicester. She lived for a time in Scotland, but now resides in the West Country with two cats, her two sons and a husband who has a wonderful and very necessary sense of humor. When not pounding away at the keys on her computer she likes to relax in her garden, which she has opened to the public on more than one occasion in aid of the village church funds.




THE STEEPWOOD SCANDAL:


Lord Ravensden’s Marriage, by Anne Herries

An Innocent Miss, by Elizabeth Bailey

The Reluctant Bride, by Meg Alexander

A Companion of Quality, by Nicola Cornick

A Most Improper Proposal, by Gail Whitiker

A Noble Man, by Anne Ashley

An Unreasonable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

An Unconventional Duenna, by Paula Marshall

Counterfeit Earl, by Anne Herries

The Captain’s Return, by Elizabeth Bailey

The Guardian’s Dilemma, by Gail Whitiker

Lord Exmouth’s Intentions, by Anne Ashley

Mr. Rushford’s Honour, by Meg Alexander

An Unlikely Suitor, by Nicola Cornick

An Inescapable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

The Missing Marchioness, by Paula Marshall




Contents


Chapter One (#u854ae94b-c9ff-5d2f-a4f2-0e97fe680da2)

Chapter Two (#ubdc0ea6f-d3a2-5294-bdc7-889d2c9c245a)

Chapter Three (#u2049f6f4-f9a9-548f-aa8a-1542108d7be0)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


A distinct lack of enthusiasm induced Robina to allow the half-folded garment to slip through her fingers, and her attention to wander aspeered through the window to follow the progress along the street of a very smart racing curricle, pulled by two superbly matched greys.

Considering the Season had officially come to an end the week before, London remained surprisingly bustling with life, its many springtime visitors seemingly reluctant to return to their country homes, or to move on to those coastal towns which had become such fashionable summer retreats in recent years.

It just so happened that she would have been more than happy to return to her Northamptonshire home, to sample once again the sweetly fresh country air, and be reunited with her father and sisters once more. She was not so foolish as to suppose that it would not take a little time to adjust to the tranquillity of the vicarage in Abbot Quincey again, after spending more than three months here in the capital, thoroughly enjoying all the delights of a Season which, even though she said so herself, had been something of a success.

For a simple country parson’s daughter, with no dowry to speak of, she had managed to attract the attention of two very worthy gentlemen, either of whom, she didn’t doubt for a moment, would have made a very considerate husband. She had been encouraged by her mother to turn down both offers for her hand, which she had dutifully done without, she hoped, causing lasting hurt to either erstwhile suitor. And certainly none whatsoever to herself!

Neither Mr Chard nor the Honourable Simon Sutherland had succeeded in igniting that illusive flame which every romantically inclined young woman longs to experience. She had come through what was likely to be her one and only London Season a little more worldly-wise and certainly heart-whole. An involuntary sigh escaped her. Whether or not she would be able to say the same by the end of the summer was a different matter entirely.

Without the least warning she experienced it yet again: that sudden surge of blind panic. Why, oh why, hadn’t she flatly refused when the suggestion had first been put to her? Why had she allowed herself to be persuaded into accompanying the Dowager to Brighton, when she had in her heart of hearts known from the very first that what Lady Exmouth truly wanted was not a young companion for herself, but a biddable little wife for her son?

Abandoning the packing entirely now, Robina slumped down on the bed, not for the first time cursing herself for not being a little more assertive on occasions.

It wasn’t that she had taken the Dowager’s son in dislike. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Lord Exmouth was a very personable gentleman. If he was not quite the dashing, handsome hero of storybooks, he was certainly most attractive, blessed with a good physique and noble bearing. Just because he happened to be the wrong side of five-and-thirty was not such a drawback either, for older gentlemen, she had been reliably informed, tended to be rather more dependable.

That he rarely smiled, had more often than not a cynical glint in those very attractive dark brown eyes of his, and frequently relapsed into periods of brooding silence were traits, she didn’t doubt, to which she would grow accustomed in time. What she knew she could never reconcile herself to, however, was always figuring as second best in the eyes of any man she agreed to marry. And that, she very much feared, would be precisely her fate if she was ever foolish enough to consent to a union with Lord Daniel Exmouth!

A sympathetic sigh escaped her this time as the many rumours concerning the very personable widower filtered through her mind. If half the stories circulating about him were true then the poor Baron was a mere shadow of his former self.

His heart, according to many, had died with his first wife in that tragic accident eighteen months ago. Many believed that, because he had been tooling the carriage when it had overturned, killing both his wife and the nephew of a near neighbour, the combination of both grief and guilt had changed him from the most companionable of gentlemen into a die-hard sceptic who now attained scant pleasure from life. Yet, for all his brooding glances and frequent periods of self-enforced solitude, he could still on occasions be both affable and charming. Sadly, that didn’t alter the fact that whoever agreed to become his second wife would always live in the shadow of the beautiful Clarissa, who, many believed, had taken her husband’s loving heart with her to her grave.

Her mother’s unexpected appearance in the bedchamber put an end to these melancholy reflections, and Robina automatically rose to her feet to continue her packing.

‘Great heavens, child! Haven’t you finished yet? What on earth have you been doing all this time? You know full well that Lady Exmouth’s servants will be here at noon to collect your trunk.’

Robina cast a glance in her mother’s direction, not for the first time wishing that she were more able to assess her moods. The tone she had used had been mildly scolding, but her expression betrayed no hint of annoyance.

Would now be an appropriate moment to admit that she, too, would much prefer to return to Northamptonshire at the end of the week? Could she possibly succeed in making her mother, who was not always the most approachable of people, understand her grave misgivings about spending the summer in Brighton? Or had she foolishly left it rather too late?

‘Mama, I have been having second thoughts about accompanying Lady Exmouth,’ she said in a rush, before she could change her mind. ‘I should much prefer to return with you to Abbot Quincey at the end of the week.’

The seconds ticked slowly by while Robina scanned her mother’s face in the hope of glimpsing some visual reaction to the belated confession, but as usual Lady Elizabeth’s expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

‘Why this sudden change of heart, child?’ Once again there was just the faintest hint of impatience in the beautifully cultured voice. ‘Not so very long ago you were overjoyed at the prospect of spending the summer weeks by the sea. No pressure was brought to bear when the suggestion was first put to you. It was entirely your own decision to accept Lady Exmouth’s very kind invitation.’

Robina could not argue with this. She had never made any secret of the fact that she had liked Lady Exmouth from the first moment they met, and the prospect of extending the period of frivolous enjoyment by spending several weeks as the guest of that delightful and highly sociable lady had been just too much of a temptation for the country parson’s daughter, who had discovered that she had rapidly acquired a taste for the finer things in life. It was only when she had paid that short visit to Hampshire to be amongst the select few who attended the small party to celebrate the engagement of the Duke of Sharnbrook to Lady Sophia Cleeve that grave doubts had begun to assail her.

‘In that case we shall not be seeing each other again until the autumn,’ her good friend Sophia had remarked, after Robina had casually divulged her intention of spending the summer in Brighton as the guest of the Dowager Lady Exmouth.

They had been standing outside the glorious ducal mansion, bidding each other a final farewell, and there had been an unmistakable teasing glint in Sophia’s eyes as she had added in an undertone, ‘So, do I congratulate you now, or wait until the announcement is officially made, you sly old thing?’

Even now Robina could recall quite clearly gaping like a half-wit at her lifelong friend. ‘I—I do not perfectly understand what you mean, Sophia. You are the one to be congratulated, not I.’

‘At the moment, yes,’ she had laughingly agreed, ‘but it is quite obvious to anyone of the meanest intelligence that it will not be too long before you also are sporting a splendid betrothal ring on your left hand.’

Robina clearly recalled also her friend’s teasing laughter before she had gone on to add rather tauntingly, ‘Why, you cannot possibly go about refusing reasonable offers of marriage, while encouraging the attentions of a certain party, and happily accepting an invitation to spend the summer with that favoured gentleman’s mother, without causing a deal of speculation. Surely you don’t suppose that people haven’t already put two and two together and realised that your affections are engaged! I have fallen desperately in love myself, and so am able to read the signs, my dear. But if you would prefer that I wait a little longer before offering my heartfelt congratulations, you only have to say so.’

Robina had been too stunned to say anything else at the time, and had been prey to the most guilt-ridden reflections and fearful conjecture ever since.

Had she in truth actively encouraged Lord Exmouth to suppose that a proposal of marriage from him would not be unwelcome? She had asked herself that selfsame question time and time again in recent days, and even now wasn’t perfectly sure that she knew the answer.

She couldn’t deny that, up until she and her mother had paid that short visit to Hampshire, she had not once refused to stand up with Lord Exmouth whenever they had happened to be attending the same party. Which, she now realised, had occurred far too frequently to have been mere coincidence. She could only marvel at how credulous she had been for supposing that pure chance had brought them together so often, and not, as she now strongly suspected, the designs of their respective mothers.

If her suspicions were correct then the Dowager believed that in the quiet and undemanding vicar’s daughter she had found the ideal person to care for her two motherless granddaughters, and make the life of her heartbroken son more bearable, without demanding too much of him in return. It was also fairly safe to assume that her own mother was of a similar mind, and that she had every expectation of her eldest daughter receiving a very advantageous offer of marriage in the not too distant future.

‘May I ask you something, Mama?’ She did not wait for a response. ‘Are you hoping that Lord Exmouth will make me an offer before the summer is over?’

Lady Elizabeth’s expression remained inscrutable, and yet Robina sensed that her mother had been momentarily taken aback by the directness of the question. In truth, she had rather surprised herself that she had summoned up enough courage to ask such a thing. She was wont to treat her mother with the utmost respect as a rule, and had never been encouraged to query any decision she had chosen to make.

Evidently Lady Elizabeth did not deem the question an impertinence, for she said after a moment’s quiet deliberation, ‘I certainly believe he is not indifferent to you, Robina. And I cannot deny that, should he decide to make you an offer of marriage, I would be delighted, yes. It would be a truly splendid match, far better than I could ever have hoped for you. Carriages, jewels, fine clothes would be yours for the asking. You would want for nothing, child.’

Nothing except love, Robina longed to retort, but remained silent as she watched her mother move in that graceful way of hers across to the window.

‘You must appreciate of course that if you did marry Exmouth, your sisters’ chances of finding suitable husbands would be vastly improved. By reminding you of this, I hope you realise that I would never expect you to forfeit your own happiness in order that your sisters might attain theirs. Nothing could be further from the truth! And if I thought that your feelings were already engaged, I would not suggest for a moment that you further your acquaintance with the widower…But your affections are not engaged, are they, Robina?’

‘No, Mama, they are not,’ she responded, scrupulously honest, but with a hint of wistfulness which Lady Elizabeth’s sharp ears had little difficulty in detecting.

She turned away from the window to look directly at her daughter once more. ‘But you wish they were, is that it? You wish that during your time here in London you’d met just one young man who had succeeded in sending your heart pounding…? A knight in shining armour who might have swept you off your feet?’ The sudden shout of laughter, though unexpected, lacked neither warmth nor sympathy. ‘Ah, child, I was your age once and know what foolish fancies pass through a young girl’s mind. Remember, my dear, that very few members of our class marry for love. And perhaps that is no bad thing…Love, after all, is a luxury few can afford.’

After a moment she moved slowly across to the door. ‘Your father and I would never dream of forcing you into a marriage with a man you could neither like nor respect. I do not believe for a moment that you are indifferent to Lord Exmouth, child. So I would ask you to think long and hard before you turn down what might well prove to be your one and only chance of making a truly splendid match.’

Robina, watching the door being closed quietly, realised that her mother had divulged far more about herself during the past few minutes than ever before.

She had long held the belief that her parents’ union had been a love-match. Lady Elizabeth Finedon, proud and aristocratic, the daughter of a duke, no less, had chosen to marry the Reverend William Perceval, a younger son of an impoverished baronet. If love had not been the reason for the union then Robina was at a loss to understand what it might have been. Maybe, though, during the passage of time, there had been occasions when her mother had regretted allowing her heart to rule her head.

Her father, a worthy man of rigid principles, had made no secret of the fact that it had been his wife’s substantial dowry which had enabled him and his family to live in relative comfort, if not precisely luxury. Even so, it had been only the practising of strict economies over the years that had enabled the Vicar of Abbot Quincey and his wife to fund a London Season for their eldest daughter.

Robina knew that her parents had every intention of offering her three younger sisters the same opportunity as she herself had received. The twins, Edwina and Frederica, would have their come-out next year, an even greater expense with two of them to launch. Little wonder, then, that her mother was wishful to see her eldest daughter suitably established before next spring.

Her conscience began to prick her as she gazed at the half-filled trunk. Her parents had found it no easy task to finance this enjoyable London Season. Her mother especially had deprived herself of so much over the years to ensure that each of her children possessed at least a small dowry to offer a prospective husband. Was it not time for the eldest daughter to show her appreciation by doing something in return?

She reached for the lovely gown which she had allowed to slip through her fingers a short time before and, folding it with care, placed it neatly on top of the other garments in the trunk.

Those perfectly matched greys which had momentarily captured Miss Robina Perceval’s attention were brought to a halt some twenty minutes later outside a fashionable dwelling in Curzon Street. The middle-aged groom, sitting beside his master on the seat, willingly took charge of what he considered to be one of the finest pair of horses he’d seen in many a long year, and watched with a hint of pride as the greys’ highly discerning owner jumped nimbly to the ground.

Although perhaps no longer in his first flush of youth, his master was none the less in the same prime physical condition as the animals he had purchased that very morning. Tall, lean and well-muscled, Lord Exmouth was still a fine figure of a man who, most people considered, was at last beginning to show definite signs of recovering from the tragic blow life had dealt him.

But there were those who knew better. There were those who knew the truth of it all and whose respect and devotion continued to hold them mute, Kendall mused, watching his master disappear inside the house.

Another prominent member of this touching band of loyal retainers was in the hall, ready to relieve his lordship of his hat and gloves. ‘Her ladyship’s compliments, my lord, and could you possibly spare her a few minutes of your time before incarcerating yourself away in your library.’ The butler permitted himself a thin smile. ‘Her ladyship’s words, sir, not mine.’

‘Where is the Dowager? Not still abed, I trust?’

‘No, my lord. But still in her bedchamber, supervising the—er—packing of her trunks, I believe.’

White, even teeth flashed in a sportive smile. ‘I didn’t suppose for a moment, Stebbings, that she was undertaking the task herself,’ his lordship responded and, swiftly mounting the stairs, did not notice the butler’s slightly stooping shoulders shaking in appreciative laughter.

Her ladyship, now well into middle age, was not renowned for exerting herself unduly, not if she could possibly avoid it. So it came as no great surprise to her lean, athletic son to discover her prostrate on the chaise longue, one podgy, beringed hand poised over the open box of sweetmeats too conveniently positioned nearby.

She paused before reducing the box’s contents further to turn her head to see who had entered her room. ‘Daniel, darling!’ She greeted him with every evidence of delight, proffering one soft pink cheek upon which he might place a chaste salute, and then waiting for him to oblige her. ‘I was informed you went out bright and early this morning. I sincerely trust you didn’t forgo breakfast.’

‘No, ma’am. You will be pleased to learn my appetite remains hale and hearty.’

‘Yes, you do take after your dear papa in that, as in so many other things. He was not one to pick at his food, and yet he never seemed to put on an ounce of superfluous fat.’ Her sigh was distinctly mournful. ‘And yet here am I, eat like a bird, and have a girth like a Shetland pony!’

‘Mmm, I wonder why?’ his lordship murmured, casting a brief glance at the half-empty box at her elbow, before lowering his tall, lean frame, the envy of many of his friends, and much admired by more than one discerning female, into the chair nearby.

‘You wished to see me, Mama?’ he reminded her.

‘Did I?’ She looked decidedly vague, but as her son knew very well the Dowager’s appearance was deceptive. She might have grown quite indolent in recent years, rarely bestirring herself if she could possibly avoid it, but little escaped the notice of those dreamy brown eyes. ‘Ah, yes! It was only to remind you that the trunks are being sent on ahead today. We don’t wish to be burdened with piles and piles of luggage when we set forth on Friday.’

‘I believe Penn has seen to everything in his usual efficient way.’

‘What a treasure that valet of yours is, Daniel! Just like my own dear Pinner.’ She turned to the birdlike female, busily occupied in folding clothes into a sizeable trunk, and gave the faintest nod of dismissal.

‘I trust you are looking forward to the forthcoming sojourn in Brighton, dear?’ she continued the instant they were alone. ‘And quite content to bear your feeble old mama company for several more weeks? I must confess I have thoroughly enjoyed our time together here in London.’

His lordship’s eyes, so very like his mother’s in both colour and shape, held a distinctly sardonic gleam. ‘You are neither feeble-minded nor old, my dear. And neither am I a moonling. So you can stop trying to hoodwink me, and voice the question which is quivering on the tip of that occasionally ungovernable tongue of yours! Which is, of course, am I looking forward to furthering my acquaintance with Miss Perceval. The answer to which is…yes.’

His mother’s gurgle of appreciative laughter was infectious, and his lordship found it impossible not to smile. ‘Possibly just as well that I am anticipating a pleasant time by the sea, since Montague Merrell, together with half my acquaintance, is firmly convinced that the Reverend’s delightful daughter would make me an ideal wife.’

‘And so she would!’ her ladyship agreed, not reluctant to add her voice to those which in recent weeks had urged the personable Baron to consider seriously taking the matrimonial plunge once again. ‘She is without doubt the sweetest-natured gel you could ever wish to meet.’

‘I wouldn’t argue with that,’ he agreed amicably. ‘She is compliant and dutiful. She would never interfere with your pleasures, or cause you the least concern.’

‘I should wish to know her a little better before voicing an opinion on certain aspects of her character.’ He took a moment to study the nails on his left hand. ‘I strongly suspect that Miss Robina Perceval possesses rather more spirit than most people realise.’

Her ladyship was inclined to take this as a criticism, but was not one hundred per cent sure that it was. Her son was one of those irritating people who always managed to conceal what they were thinking and feeling remarkably well. A disturbing possibility, and one which had never occurred to her before, did suddenly pass through her mind, however. ‘I hope, my dear,’ she said gently, ‘that you were not hoping to find a second Clarissa. You never would, you know.’

His lordship regarded her in silence for a moment, his expression inscrutable, then he swiftly rose to his feet and went across to stand before the window, his body straight, but not noticeably tense.

‘I realise that,’ he said at length, his voice level and, like his expression, giving absolutely nothing away. ‘Clarissa was undoubtedly a rare creature. I have yet to meet her equal in beauty…And I doubt I ever shall.’

Her ladyship, masterfully suppressing the threat of tears, looked across the room at him, at a loss to know quite how to respond. Not once since the tragedy occurred had he attempted to talk about the accident, at least not to her, and on the few occasions Clarissa’s name had been mentioned she had watched him withdraw within himself, shrouding himself in his own private gloom.

‘Do not look so stricken, my dear,’ he advised gently, turning in time to catch that unmistakable expression, that look he had seen flit over scores of faces during these past months. ‘I didn’t come to London with the intention of searching for a mirror image of my dead wife. I came for the sole purpose of finding someone who would happily take care of my daughters, be kind to them and yes, I suppose, take the place of their dead mama.’

If this admission was supposed to relieve the Dowager’s mind, it fell far short of the mark. ‘I had hoped, Daniel, that you might have taken account of your own feelings in the matter, and not just your daughters’ needs. Do you feel nothing for Miss Perceval at all?’

He was silent for so long that she thought he would refuse to satisfy her curiosity, but then he said, ‘I think Robina Perceval is one of the most charming, good-natured and innately honest people I have ever met. I would feel a great deal easier in my mind, however, if I thought she really did wish to spend the summer with us in Brighton?’

‘Daniel, whatever do you mean?’

She looked so utterly bewildered that it was as much as he could do not to laugh outright. ‘Mama, I have always had the utmost respect for your acute understanding, but I must confess there have been occasions when you have allowed preconceived notions to cloud your judgement.’

‘But—but…’ The Dowager was momentarily lost for words. ‘I’m sure you are wrong, Daniel. The dear child simply jumped at the opportunity to bear me company when I first asked her.’

‘I do not doubt for a moment that she did, ma’am,’ he concurred. ‘It took me a short time only to discover that, although Miss Perceval possesses an innately charming reserve, she is by no means averse to socialising and has attained a great deal of pleasure during her time in London. Therefore it is quite natural that she would wish to continue the period of frivolous enjoyment if the opportunity arose. What appears to have escaped you completely, however, is the slight constraint in her which has been quite apparent to me since her return from Hampshire.’

The Dowager had not observed this. Which was extremely remiss of her, she decided, for she didn’t doubt for a moment that her son, discerning demon that he was, had spoken no less than the truth. ‘I wonder what could have occurred to make her have second thoughts about accompanying us?’

The look he cast her was more than faintly sardonic. ‘Come, come, ma’am, isn’t it obvious? Something or someone has made her realise what your real motive was for asking her in the first place.’

‘How thoughtless some people are! And just when things were progressing so nicely too!’ She looked as annoyed as it was possible for someone with her naturally amicable disposition to appear. ‘Why must people interfere, Daniel?’

‘Strangely enough, Mama, I have been asking myself that selfsame question during these past weeks,’ he murmured, casting her a smile which managed to convey both loving affection and exasperation in equal measures. ‘The damage has been done, however. She now knows what fate both you and her own mother have in store for her.’

‘Daniel, that simply is not true!’ She managed to hold his openly sardonic gaze for all of ten seconds before she made a great play of rearranging her shawl. ‘I admit I may possibly have mentioned in passing that, now your official period of mourning had come to an end, you might be considering a second marriage.’

He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘You do surprise me!’

‘And Lady Elizabeth may possibly have remarked on the fact that her eldest daughter, clearly betraying all the signs of truly motherly instincts, was unfailingly patient with her younger sisters,’ she continued, just as though he had not spoken. ‘But I assure you, Daniel, that I never suggested for a moment that I thought she would make an ideal wife for you. I would never dream of doing such a thing! You are far too much like your dear father. You are always willing to listen to someone else’s viewpoint, but will make your own decision in the end.’

‘I’m pleased you appreciate that at last, Mama, because it makes what I have to say to you now a great deal easier.’ Although he was still faintly smiling, there was no mistaking the note of hard determination edging his deep, attractive voice. ‘I was quite willing for you to cajole me into accompanying you to Brighton, even though I knew from the first your real motive for doing so…No, kindly allow me to finish,’ he continued, holding up a restraining hand when she was about to interrupt. ‘I wish to further my acquaintance with Miss Perceval, as I’ve already mentioned. She intrigues me. I believe there is much more to that young lady than either you or I realise. One thing I’m firmly convinced of, however, is that she had no thought of becoming the future Lady Exmouth until some well-meaning individual pointed out to her that that might well be the fate which awaits her. She may yet come to welcome that eventuality with open arms, but I am resolved that it shall be her decision, and not yours or her mother’s…Now, do I make myself clear, my dear?’

‘Perfectly, Daniel. You wish me to sit back, and allow nature to take its course.’

‘Precisely!’ The Dowager once again turned her attention to the tempting delicacies in the pretty box at her elbow. ‘Very well, Daniel. You may woo Miss Robina Perceval in your own way, and without any interference from me.’

Narrow-eyed, Daniel watched a gooey confection disappear between smugly smiling pink lips. For some obscure reason he was not totally convinced that she would be able to keep that promise.




Chapter Two


Leaning back against the comfort of the velvet squabs, Lady Exmouth stared through the carriage window at the passing countryside, recalling quite clearly a time in the not too distant past when the road to Brighton had been little more than an uncertain track, frequently impassable. All that had changed, of course, once the Regent had discovered that the air at the small, insignificant resort tended to benefit his health. Now Brighton was a centre of fashion, and could be reached by many different routes, one of which was considered by many to be the finest posting road in England.

Her ladyship had happily left all the travel arrangements, and choice of route, in the hands of her very capable son. Since the age of one-and-twenty, when he had come into the title, Daniel had displayed a natural aptitude for organisation, and a keen sense of responsibility far beyond his years. Little wonder, the Dowager reflected, that only a very small number of people had voiced certain doubts when, just two years after his father’s demise, he had calmly announced his intention of marrying his childhood sweetheart.

What a beautiful creature dear Clarissa had been! her ladyship mused, her mind’s eye having little difficulty in conjuring up a clear image of limpid blue eyes set to perfection in that lovely heart-shaped face, the whole framed in a riot of the prettiest guinea-gold curls.

The only child of an impoverished country squire, Clarissa would undoubtedly have become the toast of any Season had her father ever been in a position to finance such a venture. From the age of sixteen she had had most every eligible young bachelor in the county dangling after her at one time or another. Yet she had remained touchingly devoted to the only son of her nearest neighbours. They had seemed such an ideal couple, perfectly suited in every way. When little Hannah had been born, within a year of their marriage, their happiness had seemed complete.

It had been shortly after the birth of her first grandchild, the Dowager clearly recalled, that she had first broached the subject of her making her home in Bath. It was most touching, of course, that neither her son nor daughter-in-law would hear of such a thing, so she had remained at Courtney Place until after the birth of their second child three years later. Then no amount of entreaties had persuaded her to remain in the beautiful ancestral home, where in many ways she had continued to feel as though she was still its mistress.

She had never experienced any regrets in the choice she had made. Bath suited her very well. She had made many friends there, and was looking forward to the day when she could return to her comfortable house in Camden Place.

Much depended, of course, on how matters progressed during these next few weeks in Brighton, for she had no intention of allowing her son to return to the ancestral pile alone, once the summer was over, to continue brooding over the loss of his lovely Clarissa. If this meant that she must delay her return to the West Country to bear him company, then so be it! She could not help hoping, though, that matters would resolve themselves in a far more satisfactory manner, and that her son would soon be sharing his lovely home with quite a different lady.

Drawing her eyes away from the pleasing landscape, her ladyship darted a glance at the only other occupant of the well-sprung travelling carriage to discover her companion sitting quietly staring out of the other window, seemingly lost in a world of her own.

Daniel, the astute demon, had not been wrong when he had suggested that something had occurred to disturb the normally very calm waters of Miss Robina Perceval’s mind. Something most definitely had! If, as Daniel himself suspected, the vicar’s daughter was not at all sure that she wished to cement an alliance with the noble Courtney family, then it would, indeed, be most unfair to bring pressure to bear upon the dear girl during the forthcoming weeks to do just that.

It was so difficult to know how best to proceed in a situation such as this, her ladyship decided, absently running a finger back and forth across a faint crease in her skirts. She had no real desire to interfere in such a delicate and personal matter, while at the same time she had no intention of allowing her only child to dwindle into middle age a lonely and grieving man, when at hand was the very being who could bring great contentment back into his life, even if she failed to make him perfectly happy.

It wasn’t as if she was foolish enough to suppose for a moment that Miss Robina Perceval could ever take the place of the beautiful Clarissa in Daniel’s eyes. That would be hoping for far too much! There was no denying, though, that he had perceived something in the vicar’s daughter that appealed to him, for she was the only female he had displayed the least interest in throughout his entire sojourn in the capital.

She cast a further glance across the carriage to the opposite corner. Only this time she discovered that she was being observed in turn by a pair of blue eyes which, although of a similar hue, betrayed a deal more intelligence than the late Baroness Exmouth’s had ever done.

‘I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep,’ her ladyship remarked for want of something better to say. ‘So quiet had you become.’

‘Oh, no, my lady. Merely lost in admiration for this part of the country. I’ve never travelled this far south before, so everything is new and interesting.’

Although the poor girl might be experiencing grave doubts about this forthcoming sojourn in Brighton, it was quite evident that she was not prepared to brood about it to the extent that she became taciturn, the Dowager thought, mentally adding a further tick to that long column of Miss Robina Perceval’s excellent qualities.

‘I can recall a time, my dear child, not so very long ago, when many abandoned their attempts to reach the small fishing village, which Brighton used to be not so very long ago. Much is said these days to the Regent’s discredit, but if he had not purchased his “little farmhouse” on the coast, I very much fear that this and many other roads in this part of the country would have remained those frequently impassable tracks, full of potholes and littered with abandoned carriages.’

Evidently the vicar’s eldest daughter was much struck by this viewpoint, for her pretty face wore a very thoughtful expression, as it so often did when she was turning something over in her mind.

‘Yes, one tends to forget that not so very long ago travelling about the country was something of a dangerous undertaking, and that journeys that used to take very many hours are now completed in a fraction of the time.’

‘And in far greater comfort, too!’ her ladyship assured her. ‘Carriages are so well sprung nowadays, and there are always plenty of hostelries en route where one can refresh oneself.’

As if on cue the carriage turned off the post road a moment later and came to a halt in the forecourt of a very superior posting-house. The door was thrown wide, the steps were let down, and his lordship stood, hand held out, ready and appearing very willing, to assist them to alight.

‘Why is it, Mama,’ he remarked, guiding them into the inn, ‘that two ladies can travel the same distance, in the very same conveyance, and yet one can look none the worse for her ordeal whilst the other resembles nothing so much as a ruffled hen which has spent much of the day ineffectually flapping about a farmyard?’

‘Odious boy! No need to enquire which of us in your opinion needs to set her appearance to rights, I suppose.’ The Dowager tried to appear affronted but failed miserably. ‘Where may this overheated hen refresh herself?’

His lordship beckoned to a serving-maid, and Robina, having somehow managed to keep her countenance, accompanied her ladyship into one of the upstairs chambers to effect the necessary repairs to her own appearance.

It was by no means the first time she had heard Daniel utter some provocative remark. Her ladyship never failed to take her son’s teasing in good part, and Robina couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the special bond which existed between mother and son. She would never have dreamt of saying such things to either of her parents, especially not to her mother, who, unlike the Dowager, did not possess much of a sense of humour.

That was perhaps why she liked her ladyship so much. Lady Exmouth was such an easygoing soul, fun-loving yet in no way light-minded, though she tried, Robina had frequently suspected, to give the impression that she was a trifle featherbrained.

They had got on famously from the first, and Robina did not doubt that she would have derived much pleasure from the Dowager’s delightful company during the forthcoming weeks, had it not been for the fact that that dear lady would be bitterly disappointed if, by the end of their stay in Brighton, her son’s engagement to the Vicar of Abbot Quincey’s daughter had not been announced.

She ought to feel flattered, she supposed, that the Dowager’s son had taken such an interest in her, and maybe she would have been if she thought for a moment that she had succeeded in capturing his heart. But she flatly refused to delude herself. There was little hope of her, or anyone else for that matter, ever taking the place of his late wife.

After removing her bonnet, she took a moment to study her reflection in the glass as she tidied an errant curl. She was well enough, she supposed. At least she had been assured that she was pretty enough to turn heads, but that did not make her a beauty. Yet, there had been beauties enough gracing the Season that year, she reminded herself, her friend Sophia Cleeve to name but one. So wasn’t it rather odd that Lord Exmouth had displayed precious little interest in any one of them if he was indeed the connoisseur of beauty he was reputed to be?

‘Something appears to be troubling you, child?’

Jolted out of her puzzling reflections, Robina discovered that she was the focal point of a deceptively dreamy brown-eyed gaze. ‘Er—no, not really, my lady. I was just thinking of certain persons I had seen during the recent Season in London, and was wondering how many would be following our example by removing to Brighton.’

Robina salved her conscience by telling herself that it was not a complete lie, and fortunately the Dowager seemed to accept the explanation readily enough.

‘A great many, I shouldn’t wonder. Certainly the Carlton House set, one of whom, as you probably know, is none other than my son’s particular friend, Montague Merrell. We’ll ask Daniel who is likely to be paying a visit to the town, should we? No doubt he’ll enlighten us.’

This, however, he seemed unable, or disinclined, to do, when they joined him a few minutes later in a private parlour. He merely shrugged, saying, ‘You know I’m not one of the Regent’s cronies, Mama. And I cannot say that I’m in the least interested in who’ll be trailing after him this summer.’

‘For a young man who has been considered one of the ton’s most fashionable members all his adult life, you display precious little interest in what goes on in polite society,’ his mother remarked, casting an approving glance over the delicious fare awaiting her on the table.

Daniel was not slow to observe the rapacious gleam in those dark eyes, and obliged her by pulling out one of the chairs. As far as he could recall his mother had always been blessed with a healthy appetite. Which was no very bad thing, he didn’t suppose, so long as one did not permit food to become a ruling passion.

He had not been slow to note, either, that Miss Perceval had not opened that immensely kissable mouth of hers since entering the room; had noticed too that she appeared increasingly ill-at-ease in his company these days. A decidedly sorry state of affairs which must be rectified without delay!

‘Permit me to help you to a slice or two of chicken, Miss Perceval.’ He did so without offering her the opportunity to refuse. ‘You must be hungry after spending so many hours in a carriage. Travelling any great distance often makes one feel peckish.’

‘It certainly has that effect on me,’ the Dowager put in.

‘That goes without saying, Mama.’

‘Rude boy!’ she admonished good-humouredly. ‘Your dear papa did not beat you enough when you were a child.’

Daniel noticed that sweet, spontaneous smile, hurriedly suppressed, at the foolish banter, and was fairly sure that it would be no hard matter to restore the delectable Robina to her former composed state. Perhaps it might even be possible to achieve a closer bond between them before the day was out, he decided, swiftly setting himself a new goal.

‘I dare say you are right, Mama. However, permit me to point out that there is a delicious game pie lurking by your right elbow which appears to have escaped your notice.’

‘Thank you, my dear.’ A flicker of a knowing smile hovered around her ladyship’s mouth, clearly betraying to her son that she knew precisely what he was about. It appeared to be having the required effect too, for their guest began to help herself to the various tempting dishes on offer without the least prompting.

‘I must say, my dear boy, you have surpassed yourself. This is a most marvellous repast you have ordered, catering for all tastes.’

‘Nothing whatever to do with me,’ he surprised them both by admitting. ‘If you wish to express your appreciation, then thank Kendall. He was the one who bespoke this late luncheon to be served in a private parlour when he arranged for the stabling of my greys here two days ago.’

‘Have we very much farther to travel, my lord?’ Robina enquired, deciding that it was high time she added something to the conversation.

‘There’s about an hour’s journey ahead of us, certainly no more. My latest acquisitions will accomplish it easily.’

‘You are delighted with your greys, are you not, my son?’

‘Exceedingly, ma’am!’ he concurred, looking extremely pleased with himself. ‘It was very gratifying to pip no less a personage than a duke to the post in purchasing them. I was reliably informed that Sharnbrook was more than a little interested,’ he informed them in response to their enquiring glances, ‘but he delayed too long. Possibly had more important things on his mind, like his engagement to Miss Perceval’s friend, for instance.’

‘Now that rather insignificant affair surprised me,’ her ladyship remarked. ‘I do not understand at all why they held such a small party at Sharnbrook to celebrate the event. After all, the Duke is reputed to be one of the richest men in England. It’s not as if he couldn’t afford a large affair. Your friend’s papa too, Robina, is held to be very plump in the pocket, so I fail to understand why the engagement wasn’t celebrated more lavishly.’

‘It was what Sophia and Benedict both wanted,’ Robina divulged. ‘I know it was only a small party, but it was a most enjoyable occasion none the less.’

‘I’m all in favour of keeping these highly personal celebrations as small and informal as possible,’ his lordship announced, surprising his mother somewhat. ‘I could almost feel guilty now at depriving Sharnbrook of those superb greys. I should imagine we have much in common. Just because one happens to be comfortably circumstanced does not mean that one needs to make a vulgar display of the fact.’

‘You do surprise me, my son. You insisted that half the county be invited to the party celebrating your engagement to Clarissa.’

The Dowager had spoken without thinking, and cursed herself silently for every kind of a fool. She had rarely mentioned her late daughter-in-law’s name when in public, and never in front of the young woman who now sat silently at the table and who appeared totally absorbed in devouring the food on her plate.

‘Very true, Mama,’ his lordship responded, swiftly breaking the ensuing silence, and betraying no visible signs of distress at touching on such a poignant subject. ‘But a person’s taste can change over the years. ‘I would at one time never have considered driving myself above a few miles in an open carriage, but have very much enjoyed the experiences of this day.’

His dark eyes flickered momentarily in Robina’s direction. ‘Perhaps I can persuade you, Miss Perceval, to bear me company for what remains of the journey. You might find travelling in the fresh air a more pleasurable way of completing the journey. Added to which, it will permit her ladyship to close her eyes, as is her custom in the afternoons, without appearing rude.’

Robina hesitated, but only for a moment. There was no earthly way that she was going to be able to avoid his lordship’s company for any appreciable lengths of time during the forthcoming weeks, so she might as well be sensible and accustom herself to his presence at the outset.

‘Yes, my lord, I think a spell in the fresh air would be most welcome.’ She cast him a smile which somehow managed to display both a hint of shyness and a touch of roguery. ‘I might end looking slightly windswept, but at least I hope I shall avoid resembling some demented hen.’

His deep rumble of appreciative laughter succeeded in putting her at her ease to such an extent that when, a short while later, she was seated beside him in the curricle, she was more than content to be in his company, and not in the least nervous over placing her well-being in the hands of a man who had, reputedly through the dangerous tooling of a carriage, succeeded in killing his beloved wife.

It was only, after happily following the comfortable vehicle containing his mother for a mile or so, when his lordship unexpectedly turned off the main post road and on to a much narrower lane, bringing the spirited greys to a halt beneath the shade of some roadside trees, that she began to experience those stabs of blind panic which had plagued her from time to time during recent days.

‘Miss Perceval, I had a particular reason for wishing you to bear me company for the remainder of the journey,’ he announced, staring straight ahead down the deserted road, while with little effort, it seemed, masterfully controlling his spirited horses. ‘If my mother performs her duties as your chaperon conscientiously, there ought not to be too many occasions when we find ourselves quite alone together, and there is something I particularly wished to say to you before we embark on what I hope will be a most enjoyable stay for us both in Brighton.’

If Robina had not felt as if she were being slowly throttled she would quite happily have betrayed her feelings by giving vent to a loud and protracted groan. She had forced herself to come to terms with the fact that sooner or later the subject of a marriage between them would be raised, but she had hoped that the occasion would arise later rather than sooner, thereby permitting her to enjoy a brief period in Brighton without encumbrance. His lordship began speaking again, and she forced herself to listen.

‘We both know why our respective mothers wished us to spend the summer together. They are both hoping that I shall—to resort to the modern-day vulgar parlance—come up to scratch. Well, let me assure you, Miss Perceval, that at this present moment in time I have not the slightest intention of making you an offer of marriage.’

Turning his head, Daniel discovered a look of such utter bewilderment on her sweet face that he was forced to exert every ounce of control he possessed not to take her into his arms and totally confound her by kissing her breathless.

‘You look slightly stunned, Miss Perceval.’ An understatement if ever there was one. The poor girl looked as if she were about to swoon! ‘I’m sorry if my plain speaking has offended you.’

‘Er—no, not at all, sir,’ she responded so softly that he had a little difficulty in catching the words.

‘But I think we would rub along much more comfortably if we cleared up one or two matters at the outset.’ Again he was forced to exert the utmost control, only this time to stop himself from laughing. She was regarding him much as defenceless rabbit might a snake which was about to strike for a second time. ‘I think you must realise, Miss Perceval, that I have grown quite partial to your company during our time in London. I should like to think that we have become…friends.’

‘Er—yes,’ she responded guardedly.

‘And as such, I think we can be honest with each other without causing offence.’

‘It—er—would be nice to think we could, certainly,’ she agreed, in a voice that was growing progressively stronger, though remaining slightly wary at the same time.

‘As you may have gathered by now, my darling mother, together with most of my friends, has decided that it is high time I consider a second marriage.’

No response was forthcoming this time, so he continued undeterred. ‘It seems that most are in agreement that you would make me the ideal wife.’

Again there was no response.

‘They may possibly be correct, but I reserve the right to decide for myself. Just as I believe that you deserve the chance to make up your mind about me, without the least pressure being brought to bear upon you. That could be difficult in the present circumstances, with a certain person watching our every move, waiting with bated breath for us to announce our betrothal, unless we both work together to turn the situation in which we now find ourselves to our mutual advantage.’

She appeared merely bewildered now as she said, ‘And how do you propose that we do that, my lord?’

‘Simply by just being ourselves, and doing precisely what we wish to do. It would be foolish to attempt to avoid one another, as we’ll be residing in the same house, don’t you agree?’

‘Most assuredly.’

‘So what I suggest is that we keep the world guessing by being seen in each other’s company quite frequently, while at the same time not denying ourselves the pleasure of other people’s.’ He continued to hold her full attention. ‘Then, if by the end of the summer, when we have come to know each other a good deal better, we both decide that we should suit, all well and good, and if not…’

He reached for one of her hands and felt those slender, tapering fingers momentarily tremble in his clasp. ‘Either way, child, I want the decision to be ours, yours and mine. Not your mother’s, or mine, or anyone else’s, understand?’

It took a monumental effort, but Robina forced herself to meet his concerned and kindly gaze, and made a rather startling discovery. His eyes were not just a deep, warm brown but were flecked rather attractively with gold.

‘Yes, my lord, I do understand…And—and thank you,’ she said softly, blissfully ignorant of the fact that it had cost him dearly to suggest what he had, that the last thing in the world he had wanted was to release her from any obligations she might feel to marry him.

‘For what, silly child?’ His expressive brows rose. ‘For suggesting something that will benefit us both? Well, if you wish to show your appreciation, you can kindly stop calling me my lord. My name is Daniel.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly address you like that, sir!’ She was genuinely shocked. ‘Mama would never approve.’

‘I’m not particularly interested whether she would or not,’ he returned bluntly. ‘You’ll be residing under my roof for the next few weeks, my girl, so you’ll do what I tell you, especially if you know what’s good for you.’

She gave an uncertain laugh. By repute he was a kind-hearted, considerate man, and yet some inner feminine wisdom warned her that there might be a less agreeable side to him if he was ever crossed. She had already discovered that he was not afraid to speak his mind, and couldn’t help wondering what other interesting facets to his character would emerge before this day was out.

‘Very well, little bird, we’ll compromise. When in private I insist you call me Daniel, and when in public you may call me what ever you like…’ white teeth flashed in a playful smile ‘…providing it is polite, of course.’

Giving the little hand a last reassuring squeeze, Daniel turned his attention back to the greys. ‘We had better catch up with my darling mama, otherwise she might imagine we’ve eloped.’

‘Oh, how excessively romantic!’ Robina exclaimed without thinking, and then turned a glowing crimson when she discovered herself on the receiving end of a startled glance.

‘Excessively uncomfortable, I would have thought,’ he contradicted, slowing his team down as they approached a busy little village, ‘especially if undertaken in an equipage such as this one, and it should come on to rain.’

‘People in love would not consider such a mundane thing as the weather, if they were considering running away together,’ she pointed out, rather enjoying his teasing banter, and liking too the way his eyes were brightened by that wickedly provocative glint.

‘I should,’ he argued, ‘but then I’m a practical sort of person, not given to mad starts. Besides which, having attained the great age of almost six-and-thirty, I enjoy my creature comforts and am far too old to go careering about the country. So I can tell you now, I shall never consider eloping with you.’

‘In that case, I think you were very wise to have second thoughts about making me an offer,’ she informed him quite deliberately, knowing that even half an hour ago she would never have considered saying such a thing to him. Now, however, she felt as if a very close friendship was on the verge of springing up between them. ‘It is quite evident to me at least that we would not have suited. I should very much like a gentleman to go careering about the country with me.’

‘I never said that I had had second thoughts about making you an offer, my girl,’ he corrected. ‘I merely said—What the devil!’

For a moment Robina was startled, then she saw it too—a great brute of a man beating a donkey with a stout stick, and very much appearing as if he was enjoying the exercise, while a woman, with two children frantically clutching at the folds of her skirts, was alternately shouting and pleading with him to stop.

Without a second thought Robina accepted the reins Daniel tossed into her hands, and then watched him stalk across the road. Easily capturing the stick, he proceeded to lay it about the bully’s shoulders before calmly knocking him to the ground with one superbly aimed blow to the jaw.

She was a little too far away to hear clearly what was being said, but a great deal of gesticulating, and swearing, she suspected, especially on the part of the felled bully, followed as Daniel calmly took something from inside his right boot. A moment later the pile of pots and pans which had been tied to the donkey’s back fell to the ground with a clatter, and a further heated altercation between the man and the woman ensued, before Daniel stepped into the breach once again.

Robina was only vaguely aware of what followed, for her attention was taken up with calming the greys, which had taken exception to the noise of the pots and pans clattering on the road. By the time she had them well under control again, the unkempt rogue was trudging off up the village street, carrying his wares on his own back, the two children, no longer sobbing, were leading the donkey into a paddock, and Daniel was accompanying the woman into a charming thatched cottage.

He reappeared a few minutes later, the woman at his heels this time, desperately striving to keep up with his long-striding gait, while attempting to offer her grateful thanks.

‘Not at all, my good woman. Only too pleased to be of assistance,’ Robina heard him say, before he doffed his hat, and came hurriedly across the road towards her.

‘My dear girl, I cannot apologise enough!’ There was an unmistakable flicker of concern in his eyes as he clambered up on the seat and relieved her of the reins. ‘What on earth must you think of me, deserting you in such a fashion! I sincerely trust you weren’t too nervous at being left in charge of the greys?’

‘Not at all,’ she assured him. ‘I frequently tool Papa’s one-horse gig when at home.’ She caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, but didn’t attempt to enquire precisely what he had found so amusing, and merely asked for an account of what had taken place.

‘You saw what happened, I am ashamed to say, but there was little I could do to avoid your witnessing that unfortunate encounter.’ He gave the greys the office to start, once again handling the spirited pair with effortless ease. ‘I am not accounted a violent man, and yet I would be the first to admit that I have an almost pathological hatred for persons who inflict needless cruelty. It wasn’t sufficient for that oaf to pass by the gate of the donkey’s former, caring owners each day, he must needs stop to torment those children further by abusing a creature they both love, and had looked upon as a pet.’

‘How dreadful! I’m very glad we happened along. And now the donkey, I assume, has been restored to its former owners.’

‘Not quite.’ His smile was decidedly rueful. ‘He now belongs to me. I decided, all things considered, that it would be for the best.’

Robina managed to keep her countenance, but it was an effort. It was quite evident that he wasn’t precisely enthusiastic over this latest acquisition, and she could not resist the temptation to tease him a little.

‘I have observed during my weeks in London that it is not unusual for a gentleman of—how shall I phrase it?—an eccentric nature to indulge in rather queer starts from time to time. I suppose you suddenly discovered that you had need of a beast of burden?’

‘I am beginning to discover that there is a strong teasing element in your nature, my girl!’ The swift, narrow-eyed glance he cast her managed to betray both amusement and faint exasperation. ‘No, you provoking little baggage! I did not suddenly take it into my head that I wished to own such a creature. And if you dare to tell another living soul, you’ll regret it! I would become a laughingstock, and the talk of the clubs for weeks!’

She did not suppose for a moment that he would care a jot what the world at large said or thought about him, but she gave her solemn promise none the less, before demanding to know why he had taken it upon himself to make such an odd purchase.

‘Because I discovered that it was in fact that poor woman’s idle husband who sold the beast, before calmly going off and leaving her and their children to fend for themselves. She hasn’t seen him since and doesn’t expect to. There is, however, always the chance that he’ll turn up again, like the proverbial bad penny, and repeat the procedure, leaving her without the means to transport her goods to market, and depriving the children of their pet. So to overcome this possibility, I have given her a letter which states that, on condition she takes good care of the animal, she has my full permission, as its owner, to use the donkey to transport her goods to the local market, but on no account must my property be sold without my written consent.’

How exceedingly kind and considerate he was! Robina decided, as they rejoined the post road and she caught sight of her ladyship’s carriage in the distance. He had been generous to three perfect strangers and no less generous towards her.

By demanding only friendship, he had now made it possible for her to enjoy the weeks ahead without fear that at the end of her stay she would be asked for recompense.

So why then, she wondered, a frown of puzzlement creasing her brow, wasn’t she feeling deliriously happy at this precise moment? Furthermore, why had she suddenly developed this peculiar hollow feeling deep inside?




Chapter Three


Robina, still very much enjoying the novel experience of having her hair expertly dressed each day by Lady Exmouth’s skilful abigail, sat quietly before the dressing-table mirror, contemplating yet again how much her life had changed since she had left rural Northamptonshire behind her on that cold day in early March.

For a simple country girl, accustomed to comfort rather than luxury, and to lengthy periods of solitude, given to quiet reflection, or the pursuit of some useful occupation whereby she might be of some benefit to her fellow man, it was quite surprising the ease with which she had conformed to a hectic and purely social life, where the pursuit of personal pleasure was the only thing that need concern her to any degree. Her mother’s presence, understandably, had been a steadying influence during those heady weeks in London. Since her arrival in Brighton no restrictions had been placed upon her whatsoever. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, she was being thoroughly spoilt by the darling Dowager and her no less considerate son. And she was shamefully loving every moment of it!

‘It’s simply no good at all. It must stop!’ she announced, with as much determination as she could muster, and without really realising that she had spoken her guilty thoughts aloud until she happened to glance up and noticed the middle-aged abigail’s slightly puzzled expression in the dressing-table mirror.

‘What’s the matter, miss? Don’t you care for this style any longer? We can always try something different if you’d prefer.’

‘I have no fault to find with the way you dress my hair, Pinner,’ Robina hurriedly assured her.

‘Well, that’s a blessing, miss!’ One could almost sense that the highly skilled and conscientious servant was suppressing a sigh of relief. ‘For one dreadful moment there I thought you were going to ask me to cut it. And that I would never willingly do,’ she announced, easing the brush almost reverently through the long shiny dark strands. ‘Beautiful, it is, and a sheer delight to dress, miss, just like the rest of you. There aren’t too many blessed with such a perfect figure as yours. You’re an abigail’s dream, Miss Robina, so you are! You’d look wonderfully turned out in a scullery-maid’s apron!’

‘You’re the one who deserves the credit, not I,’ Robina countered, desperately striving not to allow this fulsome praise go to her head.

As her father, the Reverend William Perceval, had always considered vanity amongst the very worst of sins, compliments were rarely uttered back at the vicarage in Abbot Quincey, and yet Robina, who had been taught to consider inner beauty far more meaningful than any shallow outward trappings, could not help but feel gratified by the compliment.

‘It is no good, Pinner,’ she announced, rising to her feet when the last curls had been carefully pinned into place. ‘I must face the fact that, unless I begin to exert a deal of self-control, I stand in the gravest danger of becoming thoroughly corrupted whilst I continue to reside under this roof. Why, I shall be of no earthly use to man or beast when the time comes for me to return to Abbot Quincey! I never used to think twice about mending a tear in a gown, or dressing my own hair. Now I wouldn’t even contemplate doing such a thing, and am more than content to sit back and allow others to do everything for me. Thoroughly indulged, I am, and loving it! What would dear Papa say?’

It was all very well to make light of it, Robina decided, as the bedchamber resounded with Pinner’s highly amused chuckles, but really it was no laughing matter. She had adapted to this life of ease, this life of pure self-indulgence, as though she had been born to it, which of course was far from the truth. Although life at the vicarage could never have been described as one of drudgery, she had been expected to undertake a variety of light duties, which had included a certain amount of time given to the entertainment of her three younger sisters, ensuring that they didn’t get into mischief by setting a good example herself.

And a fine example she would set for them now! she mused, unable to suppress a rueful half-smile. There was no denying that the highly complaisant and faintly indolent Dowager was an appalling influence. To be fair, though, she ought to accept the lion’s share of the blame herself for not displaying more strength of character and halting her meteoric descent into that wicked pit of dissipation. On the other hand, it had to be said in her own defence that she had been battling against tremendous odds during these past days. Why, even his lordship had actively encouraged her to do precisely as she wished!

Although Daniel had made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear at the outset by announcing that friendship was all he demanded from her at this present moment in time, since their arrival in Brighton he had been unfailingly thoughtful, touchingly attentive to her every possible need.

She paused as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and stared thoughtfully in the direction of the breakfast-parlour door, unaware that her expression had been softened by a quite spontaneous, tender little smile.

She found it hard to believe now, but it was true none the less that, although she had readily agreed to the suggestion when it had first been made, she had, surprisingly, not found it easy to look upon Daniel merely as a friend. Which was all the more curious because she had never found it in the least daunting to converse with him, not even when they had first met in London.

Her father’s particular calling had ensured that throughout her life she had, on a fairly regular basis, come into contact with people who had suffered recent bereavement. Consequently she had known precisely what to say to Daniel from the first, and had never experienced the least awkwardness in his presence. A slightly closer relationship had initially, she was forced to own, proved a different matter entirely, however.

Not having been blessed with any brothers had, she supposed, substantially limited her experience of the opposite sex, and although her Perceval cousins, Hugo and Lowell, had been frequent visitors to the vicarage, she had acquired precious little knowledge of the workings of the male mind from either of them. During childhood she had been inclined to look upon Hugo, some ten years her senior, as a most superior being, sophisticated, charming, and slightly unapproachable; Lowell, being some six years his brother’s junior, had always seemed to her, and still did for that matter, little more than an endearing scamp, always ripe for any lark. Consequently, living under the same roof as Lord Exmouth had turned out to be something of a revelation.

Daniel, she had swiftly discovered, possessed the most wonderful sense of humour. He certainly appeared to enjoy indulging in bouts of light-hearted banter, and the frequent exchange of the swift repartee, but there was nothing of the mischievous schoolboy in his nature. Far from it, in fact! He was every inch the fashionable gentleman, accomplished and refined, and yet not remotely high in the instep. This was perhaps why she had managed eventually to dispense with those last barriers of reserve, and had come to feel so completely relaxed in his company, more so, surprisingly, than in her own father’s.

No one would have supposed for a moment that Robina held her new-found friend in such high esteem when she entered the breakfast-parlour a moment later to discover him, as expected, already seated at the table; least of all Daniel himself, who was not slow to perceive the slightly troubled look in her strikingly pretty, clear blue eyes.

‘What’s the matter, my little bird?’ Ever the polite gentleman, he rose to his feet and waited until she had slipped into the chair beside his own before resuming his repast. ‘Did you have trouble sleeping last night?’

‘How could I possibly have trouble sleeping, Daniel, when I have been given, I do not doubt, the most comfortable bed in the house?’ Without the least show of reticence, Robina began to help herself to coffee and a delicious hot buttered roll. ‘And that is precisely what concerns me. If I’m not very careful, I’m likely to be ruined by both you and your mother.’

‘Now there’s a tempting thought!’ he muttered before he could stop himself, but fortunately she appeared not to have heard. ‘How precisely have Mama and I fallen from grace?’

‘You both spoil me shamefully. Yes, you do,’ she reiterated when he looked about to refute this. ‘You have been so kind, giving up so much of your time in order to keep me entertained. And as for your mother…Oh, Daniel! She came to my bedchamber after we had retired last night, bringing the box containing that lovely garnet necklace of hers and matching earrings.’ There was no mistaking the agitation in her voice. ‘She insisted on making me a present of them, and I found myself in the position whereby to have refused would have made me appear so very ungrateful. And that I assure you I am not! But she really ought not to give me such things.’

‘I couldn’t agree more!’ he announced, surprising her somewhat, for he sounded genuinely annoyed.

‘Then—then, you’ll have a word with her on—on my behalf?’ she ventured, fervently hoping that she would not be causing trouble between mother and son. ‘Suggesting kindly, I hope, that she ought not to—to give me such things?’

‘Most assuredly I shall, child. You may rely upon it,’ he responded, frowning dourly as the door opened. ‘And there’s no time like the present,’ he added as the object of his evident displeasure, joining them early for once, entered the breakfast-parlour.

‘What’s this I’ve been hearing, Mama!’ he demanded the instant she had seated herself in the chair opposite. ‘What do you mean by presenting Robin with that set of garnets, may I ask?’

‘Why shouldn’t I, dear?’ the Dowager replied, betraying no obvious signs of resentment at the faintly dictatorial tone. ‘They were mine to dispose of as I saw fit, and they will look much prettier displayed against young skin.’ Glancing across the table, she was not slow to notice the twinkling mischief in his dark eyes. ‘What is the matter, my son? Do you disapprove of my giving Robina such a gift?’

‘Most assuredly! Why didn’t you present her with the rubies?’ Daniel almost burst out laughing as Robina’s knife fell from her fingers to land on her plate with a clatter. ‘I’ve always considered garnets trumpery gauds, as well you know.’

‘Well, dear, I couldn’t give her the ruby set, now could I?’ the Dowager pointed out in her defence. ‘They are amongst the family jewels, and are kept safely locked away at Courtney Place. Besides which, they are not mine to give.’

Ignoring the flashing look of reproach from a certain highly disgruntled quarter, Daniel leaned back in his chair, looking for all the world as if he were giving the matter due consideration. ‘I do not think I would give Robin the ruby set in any case, not unless she had her heart set on them, that is. No, I would be more inclined, with her delicate colouring, to deck her out in sapphires. What do you think, Mama?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Robina buried her face in her hands, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. ‘I give up!’

‘Yes, you may have a point there, dear,’ her ladyship agreed, sublimely ignoring the muttered interruption. ‘Sapphires certainly emphasise blue eyes and a fair complexion, but don’t discount the rubies, my son. With that beautiful dark hair, she could carry that particular stone very well, too.’

Wickedly enjoying himself at his darling guest’s expense, his lordship finished off the last mouthful on his plate before reaching for the journal conveniently placed nearby. ‘By the by, Mama. Darling Robina, here, feels that we are spoiling her, and being far, far too kind. So I have decided to remedy this misconduct on our part by taking her out in the curricle this morning.’

A brief glance in Robina’s direction was sufficient to inform the Dowager that the girl was as much puzzled by this pronouncement as she was herself. ‘I’m evidently being foolishly obtuse, but I do not immediately perceive how jaunting about the town in an open carriage is likely to remedy the situation, my son.’

‘Because yesterday, when Robin and I were strolling about the town, our attention was momentarily captured by the sight of that outrageous Lady Claudia Melrose making an exhibition of herself again by tooling a high-perched phaeton down the middle of the street. And young madam here, far from scandalised by such behaviour, was not slow to express her admiration of the dashing lady’s skill, nor her wish that she too could tool a racing vehicle with such flair. So, after due consideration, I’ve decided to offer the benefit of my no little experience and instruct her.’

Robina, swiftly forgetting her grievances, gave vent to a tiny squeal of delight. ‘Truly, sir…? You’ll teach me?’

‘Yes, child, but only because it will offer me the golden opportunity of scolding you unmercifully, you understand? And woe betide you if you dare to damage my greys’ delicate—’

He broke off, staring fixedly for a few moments at the article in the newspaper which had unexpectedly captured his attention, before handing the journal over to Robina, indicating the section he wished her to read by prodding the precise spot in the column with one well-manicured finger. ‘Am I right in thinking that the Marquis of Sywell heralded from your neck of the woods, child?’

Her expression changing to one of incredulity, Robina swiftly apprised herself of the item of news, and then automatically turned to Daniel for corroboration. ‘Heavens above! Do you suppose it can possibly be true?’

‘I am on occasions very sceptical about what I read in the newspapers, most especially about what appears in the gossip columns. But I doubt very much that such a detailed account as that one would have appeared in print if it were not true.’

‘What on earth has happened?’ the Dowager enquired, gaining her son’s attention.

‘The Marquis of Sywell is dead. He was discovered by his manservant lying flat on his back on the bedchamber floor, with a razor—er—stuck in his chest. It may have been an accident of course. Sywell was, after all, a notorious drunkard who could well have tripped and fallen on the implement. The authorities, however, cannot rule out foul play.’

‘No, indeed,’ Robina agreed, focusing her attention on an imaginary spot on the wall opposite, wondering why she felt not the smallest degree of remorse.

Undeniably, the Marquis had been a cruel, thoroughly selfish man who had gone through life taking what he wanted, when he wanted, with no consideration whatsoever for the feelings of others. The name Sywell had become a byword for debauchery among the inhabitants of the four Abbey villages. He had been despised by many; liked by none. He had not, however, inflicted any harm on her personally, nor on any member of her immediate family, as far as she was aware. So surely she ought to feel at least a twinge of remorse, if not for his death, then at least for the manner of his passing? The truth of the matter was, though, she felt absolutely nothing at all, and was not quite comfortable with herself for this sad absence of feeling. Had her weeks in London so changed her that she now cared not a whit whether or not a fellow human being had met his end in so violent a manner?

Daniel, watching her closely, was not slow to note the slightly perturbed expression. ‘Were you well acquainted with him, child?’

‘No, not at all.’ She shook her head in wonder. ‘It is a shameful thing to admit to,’ she announced, not thinking twice about sharing her thoughts with him, ‘but I think the world will be a better place without the Marquis. If my sympathies rest with anyone, then it is with the possible perpetrator of the deed. What he must have suffered at Sywell’s hands to induce him to seek revenge and commit such an act one can only wonder at.’

‘Very true,’ the Dowager agreed, much struck by this. ‘And if he was indeed murdered, I doubt there will be any lack of suspects.’

‘I didn’t realise you were so well acquainted with him, Mama?’

‘We were slightly acquainted, Daniel,’ she corrected him. ‘We met on one or two occasions many years ago. Your maternal grandfather was not in favour of a closer association. Even in those days Sywell had a somewhat unsavoury reputation. He was undeniably a most disagreeable man, who went through life making enemies—far more, I dare say, than there will be mourners at his funeral to lament his passing.’

‘You may possibly be right,’ Daniel agreed, rising to his feet. ‘But I for one have no intention of fruitlessly trying to speculate on which of his numerous enemies might have been the perpetrator of the crime—if indeed a crime was committed, for that in itself has yet to be proved. I have a far more important matter taxing my poor brain at this present moment in time—namely, how to pacify Kendall for the ordeal ahead of him.

‘You may or may not be aware of it, ma’am,’ he continued, in response to the faintly bewildered glance his mother cast up at him as he passed her chair, ‘but my most loyal retainer, being a confirmed bachelor, retains one or two preconceived notions where the fair sex is concerned. He is not a total misogynist, for he has on the odd occasion been overheard to utter mild praise when observing some female equestrian displaying a modicum of skill. He is, however, old-fashioned enough to deplore the present vogue for ladies tooling their own carriages.’

‘Why not simply leave him here when you take Robina out?’ her ladyship enquired, at a loss to understand why her son was making such an issue of an easily resolved problem.

His expression was faintly mocking. ‘Because unlike you, Mama, who have proved to be possibly the most negligent chaperon on the face of the planet since we took up residence here in Brighton, I’m endeavouring to ensure that Robina’s hitherto spotless reputation does not become slightly tarnished in the eyes of this censorious world of ours by being observed leaving the town’s limits solely in my company.’

Although the explanation appeared to satisfy the Dowager, Robina was not quite so certain that she fully understood the reason behind his lordship’s resolve to observe the proprieties wherever possible. Whose reputation was he striving to protect—hers or his own? she couldn’t help asking herself. Was he doing everything within his power to ensure that she was not forced into a union with him? Or was he determined that he would not be obliged to offer her the protection of his name because of any gossip which might arise from their being observed together? And why was it, she wondered, had the latter possibility brought a return of that very uncomfortable hollow feeling deep inside?

By the time she had taken her place beside his lordship in the curricle later that morning, Robina had come very close to convincing herself that Daniel’s determination to have a third person present as much as possible whenever in her company was prompted by entirely unselfish motives. Yes, she had almost convinced herself, but not quite. She refused, however, to permit the remaining lingering little doubt to mar the pleasurable excitement she was experiencing at the prospect of being taught to handle such a fine pair of horses.

Having been expected to perform many tasks over the years under her mother’s watchful eye had certainly stood her in good stead for just such an occasion as this, Robina reflected, happily taking charge of the equipage as they reached the outskirts of the town and the open countryside lay before them beckoning invitingly. At some point in her young life she had acquired a dogged determination not to allow fear of failure or an expert’s critical opinion to prevent her from attempting something new. Consequently, she was able to concentrate fully on the task in hand, even though she had been forewarned that the small, stocky individual perched on the seat behind her was undoubtedly watching her every move, just waiting for the opportunity to give his opinion of ‘uppity’ females who thought themselves capable of handling the ribbons by giving vent to a loud snort at any foolish mistake she might make.

Thankfully no such derisive sound reached her ears. More satisfying still was the fact that only once, before she was requested to draw to a halt at a convenient spot in the lane where there was room enough for two carriages to pass quite comfortably, did her tutor feel the need to correct a slight error by placing his hand over hers, though why the fleeting and unexpected contact should have resulted in her heart momentarily beating a little faster she was at a complete loss to understand.





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