Книга - Waltzing With The Earl

Waltzing With The Earl
Catherine Tinley


A wallflower’s time to shine…The Earl of Shalford needs to marry into money to save his estate. Wealthy and beautiful Henrietta Buxted should be the perfect candidate. So why does his eye keep wandering to her quiet cousin Charlotte Wyncroft?Charlotte watches Henrietta's games of courtship with wry amusement. That is, until a stolen dance reveals a hidden side to the earl. Penniless Charlotte knows she’s far from a suitable match yet, in Adam's arms, she can dream of the happily-ever-after she’s always wanted!







A wallflower’s time to shine...

The Earl of Shalford needs to marry into money to save his estate. Wealthy and beautiful Henrietta Buxted should be the perfect candidate. So why does his eye keep wandering to her quiet cousin, Charlotte Wyncroft?

Charlotte watches Henrietta’s games of courtship with wry amusement. That is, until a stolen dance reveals a hidden side to the earl. Penniless Charlotte knows she’s far from a suitable match, yet, in Adam’s arms, she can dream of the happily-ever-after she’s always wanted!


‘Would you do me the pleasure of dancing the waltz with me?’

Charlotte’s happiness was complete. ‘I should be delighted, my lord.’

There was a murmur of excitement as the couples took to the floor. Belatedly Charlotte realised that Henrietta was glowering at her. Oh, no! Henrietta had probably expected the earl to offer her the waltz.

‘My lord, I think Henrietta wishes to dance the waltz with you. And I feel a little unwell, so—’

‘Oh, no! You shall not sacrifice yourself for her this time. You are not unwell, for I never saw you in greater looks, and it is you I wish to dance with—not your cousin. Let her find a partner from among her admirers.’

Shocked, but secretly pleased, Charlotte let it go. In truth, this was her wish. Right now she wanted to enjoy this dance, with this man, in this ballroom.


Author Note (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

I hope you enjoy Charlotte and Adam’s story as much as I do. It’s particularly exciting for me as it’s my first published novel, and it began—as these things often do—with a ‘what if?’

What if, in Regency England, a young woman of good family lost her place in society? Not through scandal or drama but subtly, insidiously, through loss of perceived wealth. And what if she had already become close to a man who needed to marry well?

Marriage in Georgian society was often more to do with land, property and money than affection, love or attraction, and yet there are stories of love-matches too. I’ve tried to be true to what we know of society at that time, so this story focuses more on the drawing room than the bedroom. My ‘planet Regency’ is as much Heyer’s as Austen’s, and I love to visit it regularly.

Watch out for Harry’s story, coming next—I wonder what would happen if he met Charlotte’s spirited friend Juliana…?


Waltzing with the Earl

Catherine Tinley






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


CATHERINE TINLEY has loved reading and writing since childhood, and has a particular fondness for love, romance and happy endings. She lives in Ireland with her husband, children, dog and kitten, and can be reached at catherinetinley.com (http://www.catherinetinley.com), as well as through Facebook and @CatherineTinley on Twitter.

Waltzing with the Earl

is Catherine Tinley’s enchanting debut for

Mills & Boon Historical Romance!

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


To my parents, Sheila and Tommy, with love.


Contents

Cover (#ud41daa58-ca13-5559-80df-400a31f1f5bf)

Back Cover Text (#ue2dc85e1-a4ef-5a7e-ad89-a59810166fe3)

Introduction (#uf47b670b-a6f3-5afb-b15b-3855c20c2010)

Author Note (#u181b9f2c-3bdf-552d-9ef6-3755c6308768)

Title Page (#u49392056-42e5-5e14-a9b4-f8fb99402f46)

About the Author (#u9bd70b36-01b1-523c-ac0e-a1abb3ac9e29)

Dedication (#uf296c56d-cba5-5647-9a77-71902843eda3)

Prologue (#ub950667a-6bea-5cbc-b21e-51af2f183a27)

Chapter One (#u3e5b4144-2e26-5874-83ab-274660d3dd5c)

Chapter Two (#ue8dc2c71-8416-518b-8a8f-0db6e27ee545)

Chapter Three (#u9786edb8-c119-5827-8697-ec1d249f8b4d)

Chapter Four (#u8b628b26-b4d9-5249-b762-219be3c6afd8)

Chapter Five (#ub659c957-d79d-54f6-a694-cfd95c560671)

Chapter Six (#ua1e68645-a6c3-5cb6-99fb-f4f4f97a5ed8)

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 Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

London, 1814

Leaning against a gilded column, the Earl of Shalford coolly observed the revellers at Lady Jersey’s party. The elegant ballroom was thronged with gentlemen and ladies of every age, shape and demeanour, all determined to enjoy the evening. A country dance was in full flow, and the sight of tittering ladies and merry gentlemen leaping and capering around the room seemed, at this moment, the height of absurdity.

‘Adam—so this is where I find you. Ogling the ladies, eh?’

The Earl regarded his younger brother with disfavour. ‘No, I shall leave that to you, Harry. I am leaving.’ He wrenched his long frame upright.

‘So soon? But the night is barely begun—and you are promised to dance the cotillion with Miss Ross.’

The Earl shrugged. ‘I shall apologise—a sudden indisposition, I think.’

‘You are not indisposed—well, not unless one counts this unseemly languor. Come now, Adam, there are lovelies to be danced with, flirtations to be had. You are too staid for your own good!’

‘Not staid—bored. Not one of these ladies has the power to hold my attention. I dance with them, then immediately forget them. I cannot choose between them.’

‘Then do not choose. Simply enjoy the moment. We have been out of mourning for Papa for months, yet still you act as though...’

‘As though I were still mourning him? You need not worry, Harry. Papa is gone. I have accepted it. The Earldom—and all its responsibilities—rests on my shoulders.’

‘It must not be a burden, Adam. You can still enjoy life.’

‘I do, Harry, I do. I just do not enjoy—this.’ He indicated the crowded room. ‘Give me an evening with friends instead—with people I know and wish to talk to.’

‘But your friends are here.’ Harry indicated a corner near the supper room, where a group of young men were indulging in drinking games with Lady Jersey’s potent punch.

‘Perhaps I am not friendly enough tonight. Have a good evening, Harry. Flirt with as many young ladies as you can manage. Keep up the Fanton name.’

Harry shook his head. ‘Adam, this is not good.’

His brother, unheeding, left with a slight wave of his hand. He spoke first to Miss Ross, who looked disappointed, then made his farewell to their hostess, Lady Jersey.

As Adam slipped out of the room, Harry spoke softly, though he knew his brother could not hear. ‘I wish I could lift your spirits, Adam, but if pretty girls and dances can’t do it then how can I?’


Chapter One (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

Buxted House in Half-Moon Street was a neat, elegant townhouse, ideally situated between Curzon Street and Green Park. As his coach stopped outside, Colonel Sir Edward Wyncroft glanced around. Late morning meant the street was busy with delivery men, street sweepers and errand boys. The smell of spring was in the air, mixed with the usual London odours—chimney smoke and horse manure.

A lean, sprightly gentleman, with intelligent blue eyes and dark curls showing only a hint of grey, Sir Edward had an easy gait, and his youthful looks belied the fact that he was now in his fifth decade.

Surrendering his hat and cane to the footman, Sir Edward addressed the butler, whose name, he remembered, was Biddle.

‘I believe your master is expecting me, Biddle?’

‘Indeed, Sir Edward. I am glad to see you again, sir. Please come this way.’

Sir Edward followed him to the breakfast room, where Mr Frederick Buxted, an affable, portly fellow in his middle years, was demolishing a selection of cold meats and rolls with coffee. Rising as the butler announced his guest, he shook Sir Edward’s hand and bade him join in the spread.

‘No, no, Freddy, I have eaten already. Can’t get used to these late hours, you know.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Mr Buxted knowledgeably. ‘No doubt you rise early in Venice?’

‘Vienna, my dear boy, Vienna,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Yes, I can’t abide sleeping late. Got to be up and about, you know. Army habits. Too much to do.’

Buxted eyed him suspiciously. ‘You know, I never did understand why you stayed in the Army after Maria died. The ladies said you couldn’t bear to come home without her.’

Sir Edward, with some difficulty, conjured up an image of his long-dead wife. ‘She was a beauty, my Maria. But that wasn’t it. I’m an Army man, Freddy. And besides, there was no reason to come home then.’

‘No reason? What about your daughter?’

‘Now, Freddy, don’t be a gudgeon! You know little Charlotte was with us when her mother died. She was such an easy, contented little thing, and her nursemaid was devoted to her. What was I to do—open up the house and let her rattle around in it with a legion of servants? No, she was better with me.’

‘Better with you?’ spluttered Freddy, almost choking on his coffee. ‘A life travelling around war zones and foreign cities, in goodness knows what danger?’

‘Oh, there was never any danger. She stayed safe with the Army families, far away from any action. Well, most of the time.’ His brow creased. ‘There was that time in Burgos...and once when we had to hide in a cellar. But my Lottie has the heart of a soldier—no airs and vapours from her. We took her home sometimes, when Maria was alive, but Maria didn’t like us to be apart.’

‘Yes, but she was never here long enough.’

‘True.’ Sir Edward looked pensive. ‘After Maria died I established Charlotte with her maid and a governess in Madrid, then Florence, and now Vienna. I sent her to a good school there—she has just finished, in fact. Though, of course you are right. She needs to see London, and she needs English ladies around her.’ He eyed Buxted keenly. ‘How is your family? Mrs Buxted? Your daughters? Both girls are out now, I think?’

‘Yes, and all are well. Louisa and the girls are still abed, as they were at Lady Jersey’s rout last night. A chance for me to enjoy a quiet breakfast. Not that—I mean, of course I prefer to have breakfast with my wife—it is just—’

‘Yes, yes, I too have a dislike of listening to nonsense too early in the day. Actually, I had hoped to ask a favour of you, Freddy.’

‘Of course, of course, Edward.’ He glanced towards the door. ‘That is, anything in my power...’

‘It is the Corsican, you see.’

‘The Corsican?’ His eyes widened. ‘Napoleon?’

‘The very man. Fact is, he is to be exiled. Elba, you know. All agreed this week.’

‘Yes, of course. The news reached us here in London a few days ago, though we didn’t know where he was to go. Just grateful the war is over, really.’

‘Well, Castlereagh doesn’t like it, but the Czar must be magnanimous. I’m with Campbell, who will stay to see it done.’

‘Er...quite, quite. Important business, that.’ Freddy adopted a knowing look.

‘Indeed—and delicate. Can’t let that little upstart think he actually was an emperor! The thing is—I think it is time Charlotte came home to England. I’m going back to Paris with the Foreign Office chaps. Everything seems to be settling down, but I wouldn’t trust the French—not suitable for her at all.’

‘No, no!’ said Buxted, much struck. ‘But is there no one—?’

‘No one in London I would know and trust like you, Freddy. You’re Maria’s cousin, got two daughters of your own. Seems an ideal situation for my Charlotte.’

‘Yes, I see, but—’

‘You needn’t worry. She won’t give you any trouble, Freddy. She is not one of those demanding females. Quiet little thing, but got a good head on her shoulders, my Lottie. In fact, shouldn’t be surprised if you like her, Freddy—everyone does.’

‘But for how long would we be expected to have her?’

‘Not more than a couple of months, Freddy. You know how it is with these things—hard to tell.’ Freddy nodded sagely. ‘It will be my last mission, though. After making sure Napoleon is safely on his way I’ll need to tidy things up—regimental business, you know—then I’ll be coming home for good. The job is done and I’m looking forward to retirement.’

‘To be sure, yes. But—’

‘And don’t worry, Freddy, I’ll stand the blunt. You won’t have to lay out a penny on her behalf. I shall arrange her pin money, but I will need to stable Charlotte’s mare with your horses, if you are agreeable?’

Mr Buxted, his shoulders slumped, could not object.

‘Then it is all settled! I shall ask Charlotte to write to your wife to confirm the date of her arrival.’

Sir Edward, entirely satisfied, took his leave without further ado, leaving Freddy Buxted with the happy duty of informing his dear wife Louisa of their impending guest. He sank back in his seat as the enormity of his task slowly dawned on him.

‘For this,’ he muttered to the empty room, ‘I shall need the assistance of a power greater than myself.’ He raised his voice. ‘Biddle! Biddle! Oh, there you are, man. Get me some ale!’

* * *

A little over three weeks later, on the date appointed in her polite correspondence with Mrs Buxted, Miss Charlotte Wyncroft arrived at Buxted House. She was accompanied by her groom, Joseph, leading a fine bay mare, her abigail, Miss Priddy—who was also Joseph’s sister—and an enormous number of trunks and bandboxes, piled high behind the coach.

‘Finally, Priddy, we have arrived!’

‘Now, then, Miss Charlotte, no need for over-excitement.’

‘But, Priddy, this is London! You know how long I have wanted to visit England, and especially London. It is hard to call oneself English when England is a distant memory. Ooh, there are my cousins—what attractive girls!’

Charlotte peered out through the carriage window, trying to see everything without making it obvious that was what she was doing. Two young women stood with their mama at the top of the steps. Both looked fair, pretty and elegant.

As the carriage door was opened Charlotte overheard snatches of their conversation.

‘Mama, what a lot of luggage!’ exclaimed the younger-looking Miss Buxted.

Faith was her name, Charlotte remembered from the letters she had exchanged with Mrs Buxted these past weeks. A pretty young lady with blue eyes and flaxen curls, she was a paler imitation of her older sister. She glanced anxiously at her mother and sister as they stood waiting for their guest to mount the steps.

Miss Henrietta Buxted, at twenty, was two years senior, and was stunningly beautiful. Guinea-gold curls, wide blue eyes and a stubborn chin—she would be much sought after among the young men, if Charlotte was not mistaken.

Henrietta sniffed. ‘I hope she will not be an inconvenience, Mama.’

‘Charity begins at home,’ said Mrs Buxted.

A stout lady on the shady side of forty, with a certain hardness about her eyes and mouth, she still showed faint traces of the former beauty that, Papa said, had attracted young Freddy Buxted to offer for her.

Standing stiffly in a burgundy Norwich crepe round gown, she remarked, ‘I still don’t understand how your father agreed to this. To have an unknown girl foisted on me, when I have two daughters of my own to see settled... It is beyond belief!’

Mr Buxted, who had been standing quietly behind his wife and daughters, looked alarmed. Muttering what sounded suspiciously like, ‘Fortitude!’ he stood his ground.

Charlotte glanced at Priddy, who looked shocked. Did Mrs Buxted and her daughters think she could not hear them?

Schooling her features into a polite smile, Charlotte tripped lightly up the shallow stone steps.

‘Mrs Buxted, I am so happy to be here. Thank you so much for agreeing to let me visit. What a beautiful house! And these must be my cousins.’

‘My daughters, Henrietta and Faith.’

The girls made their curtseys.

‘It is lovely to meet you all! Mr Buxted!’

‘Do call me Uncle. I should happily be your uncle. I’m so glad your father agreed to let you visit.’ Mr Buxted, moved by Charlotte’s enthusiasm, gave her an avuncular kiss.

‘Now, now, Mr Buxted—Uncle! I can imagine quite well that my father pressured you into it. He normally gets what he wants.’ She leaned forward, and added with a twinkle, ‘It is what makes him such a good colonel.’

Mr Buxted laughed, at which his wife and daughters looked quite startled. He stepped back and made a study of her.

‘Well,’ he pronounced, ‘you look nothing like my dear cousin Maria.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘She was a famous beauty, was she not? I am thought to favour my father.’

Henrietta sighed dramatically. ‘To live without a mother. It must be so sad for you.’

‘Not at all!’ said Charlotte cheerfully. ‘I don’t really remember her. She died when I was six, you see.’

‘But you have not had the guiding hand which every young lady needs,’ offered Mrs Buxted evenly. ‘Growing up without a mother, you must lack the wisdom only a mother can offer.’

‘Oh, probably,’ agreed Charlotte. ‘I do not think I am very wise sometimes.’

‘Then perhaps,’ offered Henrietta, ‘we may help improve your mind during your visit.’

‘I wouldn’t be sure of that,’ said Charlotte sorrowfully. ‘I was a terrible student. I finished school last month, thank goodness, and I did try to be sensible and obedient, but I admit I found it a struggle sometimes.’

She twinkled at Faith, who—thankfully—returned an understanding smile.

‘Reverend Welford—our chaplain in Vienna—has quite given up on me, but says he likes me as I am. I do find it hard to be good sometimes. But I do try.’

Ignoring Henrietta’s gasp of shock, Mrs Buxted inclined her head. ‘Well,’ she said, her mouth a thin hard line, ‘we shall see.’

‘I am glad,’ said Henrietta to her mother, ‘that our cousin is dark-haired—not fair, like me and Faith.’

‘Why does that matter?’ asked Faith, perplexed. ‘Besides, Charlotte has blue eyes like us.’

‘She will be described as a petite girl, with a good figure, striking blue eyes with dark lashes—the Buxted eyes—and unfashionably brown hair. She is pretty rather than beautiful, Faith.’ Henrietta sounded exasperated at her sister’s dim-wittedness. ‘It means that I will still be known as the beauty of the family—although Charlotte is pretty enough not to discredit us.’

‘And she is elegant,’ agreed Mrs Buxted, her eyes sweeping over Charlotte’s stylish blue pelisse, worn over a pretty figured muslin gown.

Charlotte stood in astonishment as they openly discussed her. In Vienna this would have been considered shockingly rude.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr Buxted, ‘I am sure you will all get on famously. My love, I shall leave you to get better acquainted with our little niece. I shall return for dinner.’

With this decisive pronouncement, he left, nimbly avoiding the train of footmen carrying Miss Wyncroft’s baggage into the rapidly shrinking hallway.

‘Mrs Walker, our housekeeper, will show you to your room.’ Mrs Buxted indicated a plump, middle-aged lady, standing by the staircase. ‘I am sure you will want to rest a while after your journey.’

‘Not at all, for I have travelled only a few hours today. We broke our journey in Godalming last night, rather than arrive with you in the evening.’

Mrs Buxted blinked.

‘But of course I should like to freshen up. My abigail, Miss Priddy, will assist me.’

Miss Priddy, who was standing in the background clutching Charlotte’s small jewel case, bobbed a curtsey to the Buxted ladies and joined her mistress in following the housekeeper—and two footmen, laden with trunks—up the wide staircase. She was a thin lady of indeterminate age and wore a plain dimity gown in a sober Devonshire brown, buttoned up to the neck. She had been with the Wyncroft family since before Charlotte was born—initially as maid to Charlotte’s mother.

Charlotte’s room was bright and spotlessly clean, with a comfortable bed and a small fireplace. It was decorated with pretty green hangings and overlooked the street. Charlotte graciously thanked the housekeeper and the two footmen, who then left to fetch more baggage.

Charlotte waited for the door to close before crossing to the window. Down below, it seemed all of London was passing by. ‘Oh, Priddy. I knew it—this will be interesting.’

‘Now, Miss Charlotte.’

‘I declare, I like my Uncle Buxted. And Miss Faith seemed friendly.’ She frowned. ‘I’m not sure about my Aunt Buxted and Miss Henrietta. They are shockingly plain-speaking—but perhaps ladies are different in London. And did you hear what they said as we arrived? They don’t really want me.’

Priddy threw her a sharp look, but said nothing.

Charlotte stretched her arms above her head, glad to be out of the rumbling carriage at last. It had taken over a week to travel from Vienna, by easy stages. Joseph, who had criss-crossed Europe many times, had organised the best inns and the safest routes. Although peace had been declared, there were still pockets of trouble in France, and they had been accompanied on their journey by armed outriders.

Charlotte gazed thoughtfully at her abigail, who had opened one of the trunks and was tutting at the creases in a white silk gown.

‘I have met many ladies of the ton in Vienna, and in Brussels, while their husbands were engaged in meetings, but I do not recall any who seemed so stiff—or so blunt—as the Buxted ladies. And everyone welcomed visitors—always. Are things so different here, or is it me they do not like?’

‘You are in London now, miss. This is the heart of English society. Many things will be different. They have never met you before, so they cannot truly dislike you. Once they learn to know you, they must like you.’

‘Oh, Priddy, I do hope you are right. I am so happy to be in London,’ said Charlotte with a contented sigh. ‘I have waited for this for so long. I’ve had years of parties and dinners with English people visiting Vienna, talking of things I knew nothing about—the English weather, the royal family, the countryside. Now I am finally in my home country. It is a new adventure, and I aim to make the most of it. All will be well, I am sure.’


Chapter Two (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

Charlotte spurred Andalusia to a canter. The breeze stung her cheeks and the afternoon sun sparkled on the Queen’s Basin as she cantered through the meadow, savouring the exhilaration in her veins. At the end of the open field she slowed the mare to a gentle trot, allowing Joseph to catch up.

‘I’ll say this, Miss Charlotte,’ said the groom who had taught her to ride amid Wellesley’s Portuguese campaign, ‘you know exactly how to handle her.’

‘Yes, you enjoyed that, didn’t you, Lusy? Just a pity we aren’t allowed a full gallop,’ said Charlotte, leaning forward to pat the mare’s neck. ‘I suppose we should be getting back, Joseph. We are to have visitors this afternoon and I am a little late.’

As they moved through the park towards Half-Moon Street Charlotte reflected on her first week in London. The Season was now in full swing, but Mrs Buxted disapproved of the ‘carousing’ involved. House parties, assemblies and balls were only to be tolerated, she had pronounced, in order to find suitable marriage partners for her daughters.

In her first two seasons Henrietta had been restricted to small gatherings and an occasional visit to Almack’s. Not this year. Faith had shyly confided to Charlotte that ‘Dear Mama’ disapproved of some large social occasions, but with Henrietta still unmarried—and yet so beautiful—Mrs Buxted had conceded she might have to relax her normal strict avoidance of parties, balls and routs.

Privately, Charlotte had wondered why Henrietta was still unwed, despite being so beautiful. Had she spurned offers of marriage? Surely she had had offers?

‘Mama wants only what is best for us,’ Faith had said, ‘which is why she wants us to beware of heedless pleasure. But I confess I am enjoying the silly vanities of ball-gowns and assemblies.’

‘And so you should,’ Charlotte had replied. ‘For it is wonderful to dress up and go to parties. I declare there is a certain excitement about knowing one is going out, in planning what to wear and getting ready. I think many men feel the same, for they spend a lot of time on their hair, and their neckcloths, and their boots. At least, Papa does.’

Charlotte had been excluded from all the evening outings so far. As Mrs Buxted—a stickler for propriety—had explained, dear Charlotte had not yet been presented at Court. She was therefore to be excluded from large balls and routs, though she might attend small, informal events. Charlotte had heard this with great disappointment. She had been looking forward to many things in London—including ton parties—and had certainly not expected her life to be quite so restricted.

On her first evening in Buxted House, it had been made clear that Charlotte was to adapt to the needs of the family.

‘Miss Charlotte,’ Mrs Buxted had said. ‘I am a straightforward person, and I pride myself on my honesty. We are well thought of in London. You are a Buxted by blood, although somewhat diluted by your father’s family, the Wyncrofts, who were of lesser birth. I cannot imagine what your childhood was like, being raised by a widower in the train of the Army!’

Charlotte had opened her mouth to defend her darling papa, but Mrs Buxted had been insistent.

‘No, I do not wish to hear what you have to say. You are in my charge now, and you will submit to me. I expect the highest standards of behaviour from you. I have spent many years preparing my girls for London society, and no one—least of all a nobody from Paris, or Vienna, or wherever you have been—will risk their future. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, Aunt.’ Charlotte, chastened, had had no choice but to submit.

Her heart had sunk. Her time in London was to be a more rule-governed existence than the life she had lived abroad. This visit to London—that she had looked forward to with such excitement—would be more of a trial than an adventure, it seemed.

Her hopes of building friendships with her cousins also looked likely to be dashed—Faith was sweet, but slow-witted, and Henrietta seemed proud and vain. Their mother was probably well-meaning, but ruled the household with a will of iron.

Charlotte, unused to being disciplined quite so forcefully or bluntly, reminded herself that as a young person, and a guest in her aunt’s house, she must be ruled by her aunt, no matter how much she hated it. She’d had no idea this would be her life here when she had persuaded her father to let her come. Now all she wanted was for Papa to rescue her from Buxted House.

Her eyes misted as she thought of Papa. There had been many times when they had been apart, but never for three whole months, and never with the sea in between them. He felt much further away than he had ever been. She cried sometimes, when feeling low, but always tried to cheer herself up again.

I’m trying to enjoy this, Papa. And I am trying to behave. But I miss you.

So far, she had done quite well. She had submitted to having a maid accompany her each time she left the house—apart from her morning ride, when she was accompanied by Joseph. General manners and conversation seemed little different, so she had avoided her aunt’s criticism there. The toughest challenge so far had been a surprising one—she was expected to avoid seeming knowledgeable, and not to hold an opinion on anything of note.

‘For a lady,’ Aunt Buxted had advised, ‘must not set herself to be higher in knowledge or understanding than a gentleman. Our weak feminine brains cannot cope with the complexities of knowledge, and to pretend to be well-informed is an unfortunate and unnecessary affectation. There is nothing worse than to be thought a bluestocking!’

This Charlotte found difficult. She was accustomed to the company of political and military men and women and had a great interest in politics. She also enjoyed reading.

Still, to please my aunt, she thought, I can try to be dumb and stupid—at least while she is present. Papa would laugh if he saw me.

Entering the house, she mounted the stairs, intending to go straight to her room to change. On the way, she heard Mrs Buxted’s voice coming from the drawing room.

‘Oh, where is the wretched girl?’

Charlotte hurried inside, her heart suddenly pounding. Mrs Buxted and her daughters were seated in full splendour—the mother on a throne-like winged chair, the girls on matching French chaises. The room had been redecorated recently in the French style, with delicate-looking gilded furniture and in colours of yellow, straw and gold. Faith had an embroidery tambour in her hand, while Henrietta was reading a book of sermons. They looked extremely proper.

Three pairs of eyes turned to her.

‘Ah, there you are—and still in your riding habit. Go and change into something more appropriate. Quickly, girl! They will be here soon!’

‘Of course, Aunt. I am sorry for being late.’

As Priddy helped her don a pretty half-dress of pale blue muslin, with a fashionable hem-frill and satin ribbon, Charlotte wondered aloud why her aunt was so anxious today. ‘For we never had this much fuss for any of the other visitors I’ve met this week.’

‘I’m sure I couldn’t say.’ Priddy sniffed. ‘But some of the servants seem mightily interested in the young gentlemen visiting today.’

‘Two brothers, Faith said—Adam and Harry Fanton. I know little about them.’

Priddy began tidying Charlotte’s hair. ‘One should never listen to gossip, but they say Mrs Buxted has her sights set on these gentlemen for her daughters. The elder—called Adam—is for Miss Henrietta—him being the Earl of Shalford, with an estate bordering the Buxteds’. They say he is on the lookout for a rich wife.’

‘Oh! I am sure my aunt will be glad to see Miss Henrietta well settled.’

‘Hrmphh! Well, your hair will just have to do.’ Priddy stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘Why did you go riding just before meeting visitors? Your face is quite red, girl.’

‘Oh, do stop fussing, Priddy.’ She flashed her abigail a quick smile before hurrying downstairs.

Too late!

As she approached the room she heard male voices. Pausing in the doorway to take in the scene, she was completely unaware of how fetching she looked, with her cheeks flushed and eyes bright from exercise. The ladies were still sitting stiffly, and had been joined by two handsome men—one in a coat of black superfine that looked moulded to his body, the other in regimentals. They rose immediately, and Mrs Buxted made the introductions.

‘Miss Wyncroft, may I present the Earl of Shalford and his brother Captain Henry Fanton? This is Miss Charlotte Wyncroft. Her mother was Maria Buxted—my husband’s cousin. Miss Wyncroft has been living abroad with her father, Colonel Sir Edward Wyncroft.’

Both gentlemen were tall and broad-shouldered, and it was clear to see they were brothers. Both had thick dark hair and handsome, striking faces. The Earl looked slightly older—maybe approaching thirty. His eyes were a piercing grey, and he observed Charlotte coolly. The Captain, in contrast, was all smiles. He showed a marked resemblance to his brother, though his eyes were blue, not grey, and he was perhaps a little shorter.

They made their bows, the Earl formally and unsmilingly and the Captain with a decided twinkle in his eyes. He spoke first.

‘How long will you stay in London, Miss Wyncroft?’

‘I am not certain. My father, you see, is in Paris.’

At this his brother, who had retaken his seat beside Henrietta, looked up. ‘He is with Castlereagh?’

The Captain laughed. ‘My brother knows them all, Miss Wyncroft. He has taken up his seat this year and finds he has a taste for politics.’

‘I too, have an interest in politics—though I know little about what goes on in the Palace of Westminster. My education has been on the continent—we lived in Austria most recently—and I am sadly lacking in knowledge of our own internal politics, save that which we poor émigrées must pick up from our visitors.’

She turned to the Earl, who was listening with attention.

‘I was with Papa—and Lord Castlereagh—until two weeks ago, when I left for England.’

‘My cousin has not lived much in England, Lord Shalford,’ said Henrietta. ‘She is quite the foreigner.’

‘You must excuse her tardiness,’ added Mrs Buxted. ‘She was out riding and has yet to learn the importance of being ready for expected guests.’

Charlotte, unusually, was for a moment lost for words.

The Captain came to her rescue. ‘Oh, a lady after my own heart, then. I know what it is to enjoy a good outing on a dry, clear day such as this.’

Charlotte smiled gratefully. ‘Indeed, I enjoy riding immensely, and I miss it when I have not been out for a few days. My Uncle Buxted has kindly stabled my mare.’

‘You have brought your own horse, then? From Austria?’ Captain Fanton gazed at her intently.

‘Yes, though we got her in Spain. Her name is Andalusia—and she is a darling.’

‘I should like to see her. My brother and I ride most days. Perhaps I—or we—could accompany you on one of your rides?’

‘You can—if you can keep up.’ She twinkled at him.

‘That sounds uncommonly like a challenge, does it not, Adam?

‘Indeed.’ The Earl removed a tiny speck of dust from his sleeve.

‘I admit I cannot resist a challenge. I shall call upon you tomorrow, Miss Wyncroft, if you are amenable.’

‘I don’t think I am amenable at all, but I shall ride with you tomorrow, Captain Fanton.’

Captain Fanton dipped his head in appreciation, while his brother crossed one muscular leg over the other and remained silent.

‘Faith enjoys riding—do you not, Faith?’ Mrs Buxted interjected loudly, drawing all eyes to her younger daughter.

Faith, unfortunately, had just taken a small bite of cake, and almost choked at her mother’s question. After some coughing, and sips of tea, she recovered enough to confirm that, yes, she enjoyed riding.

Charlotte refrained from raising a brow. The Buxted ladies’ idea of riding was no more than a sedate walk, from what she had seen. On two occasions, when the family had had no evening engagements, Charlotte and her cousins had gone for an early-evening ride to Rotten Row in Hyde Park.

The Buxted horses were staid and placid—Papa would have dismissed them immediately as packhorses—and they had not even broken into a trot. Both Henrietta and Faith seemed decidedly nervous around horses. Their ride had not been at all energetic, and Charlotte, who had a great deal of liveliness, had found it frustrating.

Their evening promenades were simply a chance to see and to be seen. Many members of the ton were usually there, and Charlotte had been introduced to some of the Buxteds’ acquaintances. Today, however, was her first encounter with the Earl of Shalford and his brother.

As Henrietta engaged the Earl in quiet conversation, and Mrs Buxted talked briskly to the Captain and Faith about mutual acquaintances, Charlotte took the opportunity to study the two men a little more closely.

Lord Shalford—the Earl—was tall, dark and distant. His demeanour was disengaged, verging on bored. His grey eyes had displayed complete indifference to Charlotte, which amused her. He was listening politely to Henrietta, though. Charlotte suppressed a smile. The Earl clearly preferred sedate, dutiful, blonde ladies, who arrived on time and were fashionably pale.

The Captain seemed much more likeable. His open countenance and smiling blue eyes reminded her of many young officers she had met through her father’s career. Since her seventeenth birthday, when she had been home from school, she had acted as her father’s hostess at dinners, parties and even a grand ball. It felt strange to act the debutante again—although here in London that was exactly what she was.

Lord Shalford addressed his hostess. ‘We have come today with a specific purpose in mind.’

‘Adam, must you be so formal?’ His brother laughed.

‘It seems I must, Harry,’ replied the Earl. ‘As you may know, Mrs Buxted, since my father’s death last year I have been busy with paperwork, death duties, and ensuring that my father’s—that is to say, my estate—is well-managed and that I understand its workings. As the eldest son I had naturally already had some dealings with my father’s steward, but I still have much to learn.’

‘Indeed—and I am sure the estate is safe in your more than capable hands.’ Mrs Buxted showed a smile which did not quite reach her eyes. A gleam of curiosity lit them, making her look strangely calculating for a second.

‘Well, only time will show. But to the purpose of my visit today—’

‘Yes, do get on with it, Adam.’

The Captain made a childish face at Charlotte, whose eyes danced in mischievous response. Their exchange was noted, causing Charlotte a moment’s discomfort as the Earl’s grey eyes pierced her with a keen glance.

She raised her eyebrows, undaunted, though she was assailed by the unexpected memory of old Lord Carmby, an arrogant diplomat who had crossed Charlotte’s path in Vienna. His caustic put-downs had alienated all who knew him there. He had once called Charlotte ‘a forward, opinionated brat’ when she had daringly questioned his views on a political matter. Luckily, Papa had not been within earshot. Hmmm... She hadn’t been made to feel like a child for a long time. Anger began to burn in her chest.

‘Now we are out of mourning, I think it is important for the family—indeed, for everyone at Chadcombe—that we resume normality. My father was ill for a long time, and as you may know my mother died three years before him. So I have decided to invite a small party of friends to Chadcombe after Parliament rises. My great-aunt—Miss Langley—has kindly agreed to act as hostess. I would be delighted if you and your family—and your guest, of course—’ he glanced at Charlotte ‘—would agree to visit.’

‘Visit Chadcombe?’ Henrietta came to life, an excited smile lighting her face.

Mrs Buxted sent a quelling glance to her elder daughter. ‘Of course we should be delighted to visit Chadcombe. It is an age since we were in Surrey—almost a year ago, I believe. We have not visited Monkton Park since last summer. To stay in Chadcombe would be unusual, since our estates are so close together, but we are grateful for your invitation.’

Henrietta explained to Charlotte. ‘My grandfather’s sister left Monkton Park to us two years ago. It adjoins Chadcombe’s lands to the east.’

Mrs Buxted continued. ‘We inspected the place when my aunt died, and have visited occasionally.’ She turned to Lord Shalford. ‘We could not call on the third Earl—your father—because of his illness. Monkton Park is a pretty little estate, though we prefer our main home, near Melton Mowbray. Monkton Park has been left to whichever of our daughters is married first, although the old lady positively doted on dear Henrietta.’

Henrietta smiled slightly.

‘Of course that question has never been in doubt, for Henrietta is the elder...and so pretty. My aunt clearly intended she should have the estate. And so she shall—just as soon as she is married!’

The room was silent. Charlotte looked down at her own hands, which were clasped so tightly the knuckles were white.

Aunt Buxted, oblivious, continued after a pause. ‘I shall of course check with Mr Buxted, but I am almost certain we have as yet no fixed engagements for July.’

Henrietta said nothing, but Charlotte, glancing across, saw a triumphant gleam in her eyes. This, then, was what she wanted.

‘Excellent,’ said the Earl. Turning to Henrietta, who quickly adopted an innocent, guileless expression, he added, ‘And you, Miss Buxted? Will you be happy to visit my home?’

‘Indeed I shall, Lord Shalford.’ Her voice was quiet, well-modulated, gentle.

The Earl nodded approvingly—satisfied, it seemed, with her muted response.

Charlotte suppressed a smile. If he had seen Henrietta earlier, shouting shrilly at Faith about a length of ribbon, he might not be so sanguine. Charlotte had been glad to go riding, simply to avoid the tantrum. Henrietta, she had realised, was much indulged by Mrs Buxted, and as the elder—and prettier—daughter, held prime importance in her mother’s mind.

The pliant Faith was expected to sacrifice any treat or privilege if Miss Henrietta desired it strongly enough. Including, it seemed, the chance to marry an earl. Charlotte had gently suggested that Faith be stronger in standing up for herself. Faith, admitting she was easily crushed by unkindness, had vowed to try.

The men took their leave a few moments later, as was correct. The Captain bowed to Charlotte, expressing the wish to see her again soon, while Lord Shalford nodded his head perfunctorily. Mrs Buxted watched closely, her eyes narrowed.

When they had gone, she turned immediately to Henrietta in triumph. ‘My dear Henrietta, this is good news.’ She smiled sweetly at her elder daughter. ‘We are all included, but it is clear the invitation is especially for you. If you make the most of this opportunity, he will declare himself at Chadcombe.’

‘Oh, Mama. He did ask me particularly if I should enjoy visiting his home, did he not? Just think—Chadcombe. The Fanton estate. And I am to be mistress of it!’

‘Now, my dear, do not think you have already won him. You must secure him first. Though I dare say any man in England would be delighted to wed you—with your beauty, your pedigree, and your ladylike demeanour.’

And your property! Charlotte thought, then chided herself for being uncharitable. Monkton Park was clearly part of the marriage deal. And with a handsome dowry as an added sweetener, Henrietta would be an attractive prospect to any suitor.

Priddy had told Charlotte already that the Buxteds’ Melton Mowbray estate, as well as the townhouse, was entailed on Mr Buxted’s heir—a distant cousin living in Leicester with a wife and a brood of children—so there would be nothing for Faith apart from her dowry.

Charlotte reflected that the Fantons did not look as if they were in need of rich wives—they behaved with the confidence of the wealthy, and their clothes were of the finest quality—but money was certainly a consideration for many men looking for a bride on the marriage mart.

She did not know what her own dowry was to be. The question was not one which had much occupied her. But since arriving in London, and seeing the Buxteds’ preoccupation with weddings and dowries and money, she had abruptly realised she did not exactly know how wealthy her father was. Living in different places across the continent, they had always seemed to have enough money, and she had never wanted for anything.

Her aunt, it seemed, knew more about it than she did herself.

‘I have asked my husband about your dowry, Charlotte,’ she had said bluntly after dinner last night. ‘He tells me that he imagines your fortune will be modest, due to debts from your grandfather. He believes Sir Edward will have put away a little money over the years, out of his soldier’s pay, but he is sure it is not a substantial amount.’

Charlotte had been taken aback by her aunt’s frankness. Papa never talked about money, and it had never been clear to her how much independent wealth he had. There was the family home in Shawfield, which she had not seen since she was twelve, and which had been rented out for many years. She vaguely remembered talk of mortgages, and had formed the impression that her grandfather had not been prudent with money—which fitted with the Buxteds’ conclusions.

In Austria, Herr Lenz, Papa’s man of business, had certainly been exceptionally active on his behalf, but Charlotte simply did not know exactly how things stood. Nor had she thought about it until now. This was the effect of being in England and seeing Aunt Buxted’s blatant manoeuvrings on behalf of her daughters.

Papa had made a banker’s draft over to Uncle Buxted for Charlotte’s pin money and expenses in London, and had offered to pay for the stabling of her horse, though this had been politely declined by Uncle Buxted. Her uncle had written to Papa just before Charlotte had left for England, to say he would not accept a penny for Charlotte’s keep, but would be happy to act as banker for her during her stay.

Charlotte wondered now if her uncle had been trying to be kind, if he thought Papa could not afford to pay. Her back stiffened and she tightened her lips.

‘Oh, Mama! Did you notice how he looked at me? And how he asked me particularly if I should be happy to visit? He had eyes for no one else.’

Henrietta’s excited voice brought Charlotte back to the present. Her cousin was flushed with success, and Charlotte guessed there would be little else talked of today.

Suddenly unable to stomach Henrietta’s glee, Charlotte excused herself, saying she needed to practise her music. Walking lightly down the stairs on her way to the morning room, which housed a fine pianoforte, she was surprised to see the two gentlemen only just leaving. They had clearly been waiting for their carriage to be brought round. The brothers did not see her, but she was able to hear a snatch of conversation between them as they left the house.

‘...guest is a charming girl.’

‘Perhaps—though she is a little impudent. Another silly girl, like all the rest.’

‘Really, Adam, at least she shows spirit. I cannot understand how you can prefer—’

Impudent? Silly? Such was the Earl’s opinion of her? There could be no other possible interpretation.

Oh, I hope he marries Henrietta! she thought, and images of marital disharmony momentarily soothed her wounded pride before she was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation and, laughing to herself, continued on her way.


Chapter Three (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

True to his word, Captain Fanton arrived at Buxted House the next morning on a well-balanced grey stallion. Unexpectedly, his older brother was with him, also mounted on an impressive thoroughbred—though his was all black, and sidling impatiently outside the house.

Charlotte’s heart sank. The Arrogant Earl!

‘Hold, Velox,’ he said, turning the stallion in circles to quiet him.

They had timed their call well, for Charlotte had just left the house for her morning ride with her groom. She was wearing a dashing riding habit in dark blue velvet, finished with fashionable military epaulettes and silver buttons. Her striking outfit was completed by a tall shako set at a rakish angle.

‘You look charming, Miss Wyncroft,’ said the Captain, his eyes full of admiration as she mounted Andalusia with Joseph’s assistance. ‘And your mare is a fine specimen. Do your cousins accompany us?’

‘Not today—though they did express a wish to ride on another morning. I am sorry to disappoint you. They have gone shopping.’

Though if Henrietta had known the Earl would come...

‘Ah, the favourite pastime of females.’

The Earl was all politeness but, remembering his opinion of her yesterday, Charlotte could not ignore the implied criticism.

‘Not me,’ she said, ‘I am most unnatural, I fear.’

Joseph, now mounted, followed them as they moved slowly towards the park.

‘What? Do you not enjoy shopping at all?’ asked the Earl. ‘It seems to me that young women, when they are not flirting or gossiping, are talking about ribbons and hats and fashion plates.’

Charlotte bit back the retort which was on the tip of her tongue, instead asking mildly, ‘And do you not take pleasure in seeing a well-dressed lady?’

‘Of course. A beautiful lady is an ornament to be admired!’

An ornament! ‘And can we be more?’

He looked confused.

Amused, she gave him a sunny smile, and he blinked.

‘I enjoy dressing well, Lord Shalford—as I think you do, too.’ She swept her eyes over his tight-fitting buckskins, well-made coat and highly polished boots. ‘In order for we ladies to be well turned out, we do not rely on our tailor and our valet. We must consider, and design, and choose the best fabrics, dressmakers and milliners, and we also have to worry about how things will match. There is no little skill in it.’

He considered this. ‘So the enjoyment of shopping is a necessity?’

‘In a way. Many ladies enjoy it, but it cannot be described as the favourite pastime of all females, for it is certainly not my favourite. I had much rather be out like this, riding, than stuck in a haberdashery.’

He looked sceptical, but let it pass.

Captain Fanton, as if surprised by his brother’s garrulity, intervened. ‘You are certainly unusual, Miss Wyncroft. Tell me, is it because of your upbringing in military circles?’

Charlotte, pleased with her small victory over the Arrogant Earl, smiled at Harry. ‘I suppose so. I have been around military and diplomatic families my whole life. I was born in Portugal, and I have lived in many different places. It was, I think, a good childhood—though I don’t know anything else.’

‘And you speak Portuguese?’

‘Yes. I’m afraid I can speak French, German, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese. It is a terrible thing, I know, to be thought a bluestocking, when in reality I never learned any of them, I just...knew them.’

‘Perfectly understandable,’ said the Captain. ‘Fear not, I should not take you for a bluestocking. Why, bluestockings are dowdy!’

Charlotte laughed. ‘I must thank you both for including me in your invitation to Chadcombe—even if I may be seen as a bluestocking. I am looking forward to it. It is in Surrey, I believe?

‘Yes,’ said the Earl, ‘between Godalming and Guildford. There have been Fantons there for nearly four hundred years.’

‘Godalming—I stayed at a posting inn there on my way to London. I thought it a most pretty town. They are building a new town hall with a pepperpot roof.’

‘That’s it. It replaces the old market house, which has stood there since the Middle Ages.’

‘And is your house—er—medieval?’

The Earl’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now, Miss Wyncroft, I think you are trying to fence with me. Are you asking me the age of the house, or whether it is ancient, decrepit and devoid of modern conveniences?’

She laughed lightly. ‘Is it not the same thing?’

‘No, it is not—and you know it! To answer both your questions...the original medieval house is now used for stabling. My grandfather built the present house—and nearly went bankrupt doing so. It was his obsession.’ His eyes fired a challenge to hers. ‘It has modern water closets and a new closed oven.’

‘I shall simply die from excitement! A closed oven! Why, I have never seen such a thing!’

The Captain, observing their repartee with some amazement, said, ‘Miss Wyncroft, if I had known you were so interested in domestic devices I should have invited you to tour an oven-maker’s or some such thing.’

‘Oh, please don’t. I much prefer this ride in Green Park. Tell me, Captain, do you spend much time at Chadcombe?’

‘I am there when I can be. These few years, since our mother died and our father became ill, have been difficult. I have been away with my regiment for most of the past two years. Much of the burden has rested on Adam’s shoulders.’

His brother nodded, acknowledging the truth of the Captain’s words. ‘My father worked hard to restore our fortunes, and the stability of the estate, but was ill for the last years of his life and unable to give the necessary attention to the estate. My task is to make sure the place can thrive once again. There are many families—not just ours—who rely on it.’

‘I just wish you could relax and enjoy life once in a while, Adam.’

‘I am content, Harry. I do not need to.’

‘Agreed. But you might enjoy it.’

Charlotte felt a twinge of unexpected sympathy. Lord Shalford had put duty first. This she understood. Even if the man was horribly proud and judgemental. And arrogant.

The Captain turned to Charlotte again. ‘Miss Wyncroft, tell me—when you were with the Army, did you perhaps meet my friend Captain Jack Harris? We served with the Thirtieth, in the Peninsula.’

‘You mean Parson Jack?’

‘Lord, that soubriquet followed him everywhere! Such a prosy fellow, but with a good heart.’

‘In the Peninsula he was always in the company of Captain Burnett.’

‘Yes. We three were best friends at school. Did you also meet Major Cooke?’

‘I did—many times. He is a particular friend of my father.’

She and Captain Fanton continued to converse easily as they progressed to Green Park, while Lord Shalford remained silent, watching them.

The Captain was keen to establish who Charlotte knew of his military friends, and to share impressions of places they had both visited. Charlotte laughingly fended off his questions, enjoying his relaxed manner and humorous tales. He reminded her so much of the young soldiers she had known in Vienna—they had been like younger brothers to her.

‘I remember one time, near Ciudad Rodrigo, when some of my men dressed a pig in full regimentals. Lord, such a to-do! But many are gone now.’ He fell momentarily silent.

‘Were you at Badajoz, then?’ she asked softly, remembering the difficult time during and after the siege.

‘Yes, we were all there. It didn’t end well.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘But let us not dwell on it. Today the sun shines and we are out for a ride. Where can we let the horses have their heads?’

‘Well, this is the spot where I usually enjoy a canter—from here to the end of this meadow.’

‘Then let’s ride!’

The Captain spurred his horse and they all set off.

Cantering easily, the Captain moved slightly ahead. About halfway across the meadow he eased back, allowing Charlotte and the Earl to catch up. Joseph followed at an easier pace. The brothers were both good horsemen, and Charlotte was enjoying the thrill of the ride in their company. Charlotte and the Captain were now neck-and-neck, while the Earl eased back slightly. Somehow, Charlotte reached the end of the meadow first.

‘You let me win!’ she accused the Captain, as Lord Shalford reached them, two lengths behind. Joseph, on his Buxted hack, was last to catch up.

‘I? No!’ The Captain laughed.

‘I wish you hadn’t. I do like to win, but only when I play fair.’ She turned to the Earl, tilting her head to one side. ‘Don’t you think it’s terrible when someone lets you win?’

‘It depends,’ he said, giving her question serious consideration. ‘For example, just now I let both of you win.’

His eyes were definitely smiling. Charlotte noticed they crinkled up at the sides in a most interesting manner. She frowned—she didn’t want to find anything likeable about the Arrogant Earl.

‘Adam, you wretch,’ said the Captain. ‘You just won’t admit you couldn’t catch me.’

The men continued with their light-hearted banter as they all picked their way back through the grasses, evoking childhood contests lost and won, and Charlotte felt amused—and a little envious—as she listened.

‘How I should have loved to have a brother or sister, to tease and be teased like this!’ she said as they paused in their recollections. ‘Do you have any other brothers and sisters?’

‘We have a sister—Olivia,’ said Lord Shalford. ‘She is seventeen, and not yet out. She lives quietly at Chadcombe. That is one of the reasons why I have invited you all to stay. I believe she needs the company of women.’

‘My papa said the same to me, when we talked about my visit to London. I have no sisters, although my school friend Juliana is almost like a sister to me.’

‘Olivia has friends too, but I think—I hope—she will enjoy the company of other ladies. Ladies younger than my great-aunt, who is a most admirable lady, but...’ He hesitated.

‘She is not the best companion for a seventeen-year-old girl,’ finished the Captain.

Charlotte reminded herself of the other reasons the Earl had for inviting the Buxted family. This would be a test—to assess Henrietta as a possible bride. Her substantial dowry—and Monkton Park—would surely assist his restoration of the family’s estates.

The Earl clearly felt a strong sense of duty to his heritage. Marrying well was a logical step. Henrietta was the right age, of good family, and had a handsome dowry. It was a sensible match, Charlotte thought wistfully. An exceptionally sensible match.

* * *

Arriving back at the house after their ride, Charlotte was rather alarmed to find Henrietta waiting for her. Her cousin’s expression was grim.

‘A word with you, if you please!’ she said, turning on her heel and making for the drawing room.

Charlotte followed her up the wide staircase, feeling like a naughty child. She lifted her chin.

Aunt Buxted and Faith were already in the room. Faith looked uncomfortable, but she sent Charlotte a tremulous smile. Mrs Buxted, who was mending a petticoat, lifted her eyes briefly to acknowledge Charlotte, then returned to her work.

‘Good day,’ said Charlotte, generally. ‘Did you enjoy your shopping trip while I was riding?’

‘Charlotte!’ Henrietta’s voice was sharp. She stood before the door, tapping one small foot in an agitated way. ‘The servants have let slip that you were out riding with Lord Shalford and the Captain.’

‘Indeed I was. There is no secret about it. You heard the Captain arrange it yesterday. I confess I did not realise Lord Shalford would be there.’

Henrietta pursed her lips.

Charlotte removed her hat. There was a gilded mirror above the fireplace. She walked across and smoothed her hair, checking her reflection in the glass. Unfortunately, she had to stand on tiptoes in order to do so, which perhaps spoiled the impression of calm poise.

‘I had a most enjoyable time,’ she continued. ‘They are well-informed and pleasant gentlemen, I think.’ She turned to face the ladies. ‘You should come next time. You would enjoy the conversation, I believe.’

‘You went out riding with two men!’ Two spots of unbecoming colour had appeared on Henrietta’s cheeks and her breathing had quickened. ‘I do not know—nor do I wish to know—what customs prevail in Spain, or France, or any other heathen, uncivilised place, but in London you would do well to avoid seeming fast.’

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, but answered calmly. ‘My dear Henrietta, I appreciate your concern, but I was very properly accompanied by my groom, so I believe my reputation is intact.’

‘Your—your groom?’ Henrietta’s mouth opened, then closed again. ‘I—I see. I did not know...’

Her eyes darted around the room as she searched for something to say.

‘Hrmmph! Well, on this occasion—with your groom—you may have managed to stay on the right side of acceptable maidenly behaviour... But you know I am only trying to help you.’

She smiled weakly, but her eyes told a different story.

Charlotte moved away, placing her hat upon an ornate side table. Her hand shook a little. There was no point in arguing with Henrietta—much as she longed to do so.

‘The gentlemen were most disappointed you did not ride today.’

‘They were? What did he—they—say? Did he—they—mention me?’ Henrietta’s voice was small.

‘The Earl talked about his sister, Olivia. He hopes for female companionship for her, I think.’

Mrs Buxted, who had held her tongue during Henrietta’s outburst, spoke dispassionately to her elder daughter. ‘My love, you must befriend the sister. And you should have gone riding today. But there is no need to worry about competition from your cousin.’

Charlotte blinked. She knew—and did not mind—that Henrietta was the prettiest young lady in the household. Her golden hair and deep blue eyes captivated attention wherever they went. Strangers sometimes turned their heads in the street when Henrietta passed by. At present, though, her cousin’s beauty was somewhat marred by her petulant expression. And for Aunt Buxted to speak so plainly was, Charlotte thought, unnecessary—though hardly surprising.

‘I will certainly go next time.’ Mollified, Henrietta patted her side-curls, eyeing Charlotte’s fashionable habit. ‘I need a new habit from Milton’s, Mama. Can they make it up in a week?’

‘I’m sure they can, if I require it. We shall go tomorrow.’

‘Mama,’ said Faith tentatively, ‘you said I was to get a new habit, for my old one is now a little too small. Should I go with Henrietta?’

‘No, I do not want her distracting them. My habit must be perfect!’ said Henrietta.

‘But, Mama—’

‘Don’t listen to her, Mama. I missed the ride today and everything. I must have a perfect habit!’

‘I will take you another time, Faith.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Faith submitted, though her voice trembled a little.

Charlotte threw her a sympathetic look.

‘Did you arrange to ride with them again?’ Henrietta asked Charlotte sharply, oblivious to her sister’s disappointment.

‘Yes—next Tuesday morning. I said I hoped you would both also ride then.’

‘Well, at least you did something right.’ Henrietta was back at the glass, turning her head this way and that, preening slightly. ‘And we shall see them at Lady Cowper’s ball on Friday. Oh, but of course—you can’t come, Charlotte.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘What a pity you have not been presented at Court. You miss all the most exciting parties! It must be so dull—being limited to small gatherings. No routs, no balls, no Almack’s.’

‘Oh, it is perfectly fine.’ Charlotte smiled through gritted teeth. ‘I have much to amuse myself with. I shall probably write another letter to Papa.’

‘Yes, and so you should. One must know one’s duty.’

‘I do—though it is not duty that makes me wish to write to my father. We are good friends.’

‘Friends? With your father? How strange.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You know, Charlotte, you really should change. You smell of horse.’

‘Er...yes, thank you, Henrietta.’ Charlotte refrained from reminding her cousin that she had intercepted her and delayed her from changing. She picked up her hat again.

‘Oh, I do try to be helpful to people when I can,’ said Henrietta, with a little flutter of her hand. ‘Mama says it is helpful to point out people’s flaws, so they may correct them.’

Mrs Buxted nodded approvingly. ‘You have learned well, Henrietta. It is not enough to be virtuous oneself. One must also help others where one can. Charlotte, you would do well to take Henrietta as your pattern card. She is a perfect example of a well-brought up noble lady.’

‘I shall certainly observe her closely, Aunt Buxted.’

Charlotte left the room quickly, her fists clenched and her heart beating hard. Oh, Henrietta and Aunt Buxted were infuriating!


Chapter Four (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

Dinner on Friday—the evening of Lady Cowper’s ball—was a trial. Aunt Buxted had invited the Fanton brothers, as well as her godson, Mr Foxley, to dine with them, though Henrietta had complained at length about Mr Foxley’s presence.

‘I know he is your godson, Mama, and his mother was your old school friend, but he is dull and clumsy and cannot make interesting conversation. And besides, he is only a second son, with no great fortune.’

‘Captain Fanton is a second son, but you like him well enough.’ The quiet Faith, for once, was inspired to challenge her sister.

Bravissima! thought Charlotte. Good for you, Faith.

‘Yes, though not as well as his brother. The Captain will do well for you, Faith, if you can secure him. Besides, he is a Fanton. Mr Foxley is a—a nobody.’

Mrs Buxted intervened. ‘Yes, my love, but he is a well-mannered gentleman, and since we have Charlotte we will need another gentleman to make up the numbers.’

Henrietta threw Charlotte a resentful look. ‘Perhaps Charlotte would prefer to eat something in her room. After all, she is not even going to the ball.’

Into the silence that followed Charlotte said quietly, ‘I would be quite happy to have a meal alone on Friday, ma’am. I should not wish to cause inconvenience.’

Mrs Buxted turned a page in her fashion journal.

‘Mama—’ Faith spoke up, distressed. ‘You cannot send Charlotte to her room. Why, she is a guest!’

‘I shall do no such thing, Faith. I know my duty to my guest.’ She thought for a moment, then looked at her elder daughter. ‘Henrietta, when you are mistress of Chadcombe there will be times when you will be forced to entertain unwanted guests, or have people to stay or to dine against your wishes. You will at all times conduct yourself with dignity, and do your duty to your husband and your name.’

‘My husband!’ breathed Henrietta. She considered this. ‘As you say, Mama, I will have many such trials to endure when I am a married lady—a countess. Charlotte may come to dinner.’

Charlotte—with great difficulty—said nothing. It was becoming daily more challenging to survive the barbs thrown at her. She knew that Henrietta would like nothing more than for her to retaliate, as this would expose Charlotte to Aunt Buxted’s wrath.

Behind Henrietta, Faith held her face in her hands, shaking her head. Charlotte, remembering something she needed from her room, excused herself and left. Really, it was becoming harder and harder to bite her tongue.

The invitations were delivered, the acceptances received, and the menu planned. They were to have turtle—a rare delicacy—as well as white soup, partridges with leeks, turbot, a ragout of veal and a selection of blancmanges, fruits and ices. Mrs Buxted spent hours with Cook, planning and organising the finer points, and the housekeeper organised a major cleaning of the dining room. The butler ensured the silver was polished and shining, and the footmen were perfectly presented and well drilled. The staff were well aware that this was a special dinner.

Charlotte, on whom the lack of society was beginning to tell, enjoyed the preparations for the evening. She was not able to go to the ball, but at least she could have her hair dressed and wear one of her evening gowns. Priddy teased and styled her hair so that her Grecian topknot was perfect and her glossy brown curls were perfectly arranged to frame her face. She wore a cornflower-blue gauze dress over a delicate white silk underdress, made for her in Vienna.

She checked herself in the mirror, and was content. Priddy was more than content.

‘You’ll outshine your cousins tonight, Miss Charlotte, upon my word!’

‘Of course I won’t, Priddy. They are angels of the highest order, according to their many admirers. Well, so Henrietta tells me.’

‘And you are an angel too, Miss Charlotte.’

‘But one with dark hair, Priddy. I am banished to the lower order of angels, whatever that may be.’ She had always accepted that she was pretty, but that other girls could be prettier. She would not allow Henrietta’s poison to change that.

Mr Foxley was first to arrive. He was a soberly dressed young gentleman, with a pleasant, open face and a shy smile, and Charlotte warmed to him immediately. Faith, who was looking beautiful in a dress of pale lavender crêpe dotted with clusters of pearl beads blushed and stammered a little when greeting him.

Henrietta and Mrs Buxted acknowledged him politely, if briefly, as their attention was focused on waiting for their remaining guests, while Mr Buxted also seemed distracted, checking the wines Biddle was to serve. Food and drink was of the highest importance to him, and he could talk for extended periods on port, sauces, and the best accompaniments to a squab pie.

Mr Foxley sat with Charlotte and Faith, conversing quietly and sensibly. He showed great interest in Charlotte’s life abroad, the war and the diplomatic efforts to support the coalition. He also knew just how to put Faith at ease, with gentle comments and enquiries. He was, Charlotte discovered, a scholar at heart, and he told them he liked nothing more than reading a good book in his library—or outside, if the weather permitted it.

Charlotte agreed. ‘I think there is nothing better than to sit in a beautiful place reading. In Vienna, I frequently sat in our garden, among the rose bushes, but my father always knew where to find me. Where do you like to read?’

‘My parents’ house in Kent has a small park—and a walled garden which is wonderful for trapping the sun’s rays even in springtime. They have had seats placed there, amid the greenery, and I confess I like nothing better than to sit there with a good text.’

‘It sounds pleasant,’ said Faith. ‘I love to sit in comfort in a beautiful setting, too.’

He smiled warmly at her. ‘I do admire beauty.’

Faith smiled shyly and looked down in some confusion, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

Biddle entered, announcing the arrival of the Earl and the Captain. Both were attired in full evening dress, and with their good looks and imposing figures presented an admirable picture. They were both in formal knee breeches, waistcoats and coats of dark superfine. The Earl, who nodded briefly to Charlotte as his eyes swept the room, wore a black coat over a snowy-white silk waistcoat, and his neckcloth was intricately tied in the style known as the Waterfall.

He clearly had an eye for fashion, thought Charlotte, despite his disdain for female shopping. His tailor, though, had the benefit of the Earl’s fine muscular figure to work with. No stays, laces or shoulder padding were needed for this gentleman. There would no doubt be a great deal of excitement at the ball later, when the two brothers made their entrance. She glanced at Henrietta, whose eyes were fixed with a cool hunger on Lord Shalford. Charlotte looked away. Her spoiled cousin and the Arrogant Earl deserved each other!

The gentlemen bowed and greeted their host and hostess, before acknowledging Mr Foxley and the young ladies. Charlotte curtseyed correctly, and murmured a polite greeting. Henrietta—looking ravishing in a white silk gown trimmed with ruffles and flounces—immediately claimed Lord Shalford, asking him about the ball, exclaiming about how much she was looking forward to it, and hoping it wouldn’t be too much of a squeeze.

The Earl, unperturbed, responded calmly, and requested her hand for the first dance—at which she simpered, giggled and accepted.

Mrs Buxted was all graciousness, welcoming them to what she described as ‘a little informal dinner’. She patted the Captain’s arm. ‘For we are all friends now, and you should feel at ease in our humble home.’

The seating arrangements had been carefully worked out. Henrietta was seated between Lord Shalford and Mr Foxley while, opposite, the Captain had Faith on one hand and Charlotte on the other.

‘It is important that you have the chance to talk to them during dinner, girls,’ Mrs Buxted had pronounced. ‘Faith, I have been focusing on Henrietta and the Earl, but I have noticed you are not trying hard enough to fix the Captain. You are a pretty girl, though not as beautiful as Henrietta, and with a little effort I am sure you can secure him. I will be most displeased if I see you sitting silently.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Faith had replied, trembling and twisting her handkerchief between her hands.

Conscious of her mother’s instructions, Faith was now making careful conversation with the Captain, who was seated on Charlotte’s left. Mr Buxted, on Charlotte’s right, was focused on his turbot and partridges.

‘Delightful! Wonderful seasoning!’ he muttered to himself, immersed in the enjoyment of his dinner.

This gave Charlotte the opportunity to observe her fellow diners. The Captain seemed relaxed and comfortable, but he was not having much success in drawing Faith out. She answered his queries politely enough, but there was no animation. If the Captain was bored, he hid it well. Faith, anxious to avoid her mother’s displeasure, was tongue-tied, so the conversation remained stilted. It was difficult to watch.

Mr Foxley, who was opposite Charlotte, was also suffering from a lack of conversation. He had the felicity of being seated between Mr Buxted and Henrietta, neither of whom were offering him attention. He ate sparingly and, though he tried to disguise it, his focus kept being drawn to Faith and Captain Fanton.

Mrs Buxted was smiling approvingly as her two daughters held the attention of the Fantons. Charlotte shamelessly listened in on each exchange. Nothing of note was being discussed. Nothing interesting, nothing meaningful. Nothing.

She had sat through enough society dinners to know this was usual—even commonplace. Even by those standards, however, the lack of insight and intelligence being displayed by the two Buxted ladies was positively shocking. Perhaps, she thought, girls in England were brought up to be so sheltered and protected it meant they had no opinions to offer—at least in public.

The Captain seemed perfectly comfortable to continue to extract some little conversation from the shy Faith—currently on the topic of how best to get through a long coach journey. On the far side of the table Henrietta was prosing on about correct behaviour for young ladies, and how grateful she was to have a dear mother who had taught her exactly how to go on.

The Earl’s eyes were positively glazing over, Charlotte thought, trying to hide her amusement. Her eyes danced with mischief—just as he looked up and caught her gaze. Although discovered, she would not hide, and instead continued to twinkle at him impishly. Surprisingly, he responded with an unthinking, companionable smile of his own before checking himself.

Too late! Henrietta had caught the spontaneous interaction between them. Her eyes blazed.

‘For an English upbringing,’ she said loudly, drawing all eyes to her, ‘is infinitely better than a savage youth spent among soldiers and foreigners. Don’t you agree, Lord Shalford?’


Chapter Five (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

Sudden silence surrounded the table as the shock of Henrietta’s rude comment was felt. It was clearly directed at Charlotte, though it was not obvious to the other diners what had triggered the attack. The Earl looked confused, as if wondering what was going on between the cousins.

Charlotte, despite what she knew of Henrietta’s spoiled behaviour, was stunned—and surprised that her cousin had exposed herself so blatantly. The exchange between herself and the Earl had been a spontaneous, meaningless moment—nothing to threaten Henrietta’s position as the Earl’s target of interest.

Henrietta was so self-involved—and yet so uncertain of herself. She thought nothing of behaving in an aggressive, unladylike and hurtful fashion. Charlotte, whose own anger had now been roused, was sorely tempted to retort in like manner, but she could not. To respond—even to speak directly across the table—would be ill-mannered and would simply confirm Henrietta’s accusations.

As the tension increased Charlotte clenched her cutlery tightly and then, deliberately dropping her gaze, carefully cut a piece of turbot and brought it to her mouth.

As she chewed slowly, tasting nothing, she heard Lord Shalford’s response.

‘I think,’ he said smoothly, ‘that it rather depends. I have no doubt there are many people abroad and in England who show a lack of refinement—just as there are many who will have been brought up well.’

Henrietta subsided, with a confused expression and bright red angry spots on her cheeks.

Oh, bravo! thought Charlotte. He speaks so subtly she is not even sure of his meaning.

The Earl rose a little in her estimation. She raised her eyes to his briefly, trying to communicate her gratitude. He met her gaze, his eyes softening.

Captain Fanton, turning away from Faith, claimed Charlotte’s attention. ‘I must tell you, Miss Wyncroft, I enjoyed our canter through the park.’

Charlotte smiled gratefully. ‘As did I. We will ride again on Tuesday?’ Thankfully, her voice was steady, even if her hands—hidden now on her lap—were not.

‘Yes, indeed. I will look forward to it!’

Across the table, the Earl once again engaged Henrietta in conversation and the tension slowly eased.

* * *

After dinner, thankfully, there was no time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room, for the carriages were ready. When they rose from the table, as the servants swooped in to clear the remains of the meal and help the Buxted ladies with their boots, gloves and cloaks, Lord Shalford made a point of speaking with Charlotte.

‘I do hope,’ he said quietly, ‘you were not distressed by the conversation earlier.’

About to deny it, she caught the quiet sincerity in his grey eyes and relented. It was good of him to be concerned about her. There was no trace of arrogance about him now.

‘I thank you for coming to my rescue. The worst of it is she is right! I wished for nothing more than to give her pepper—even at the dinner table. My temper is not easily aroused in the normal run of things. I have learned I am truly an ill-bred hoyden at times.’

He shook his head. ‘I think not. I admit I was a little surprised by your cousin’s comment.’

Charlotte did not wish him to think ill of Henrietta. ‘She was upset...perhaps thinking we were making fun of her. Her reaction was understandable in the circumstances.’

‘You are too considerate, I think.’

‘My cousin is young, and not long out. She can be over-sensitive.’

‘Now you sound like an elderly matron. Yet you cannot be more than nineteen!’

‘I lack only a few weeks until my twenty-first birthday.’

‘Then you and Miss Buxted are of an age, for she tells me she will be twenty-one on the first of August.’

‘I am a little older than her. That is why my father thought we should be such friends. Unfortunately...’ She stopped.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you and Miss Buxted are not close, then?’

‘Well...we are very different people.’

He considered this. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I think you are.’

For some reason, this made him frown.

Belatedly, she realised the impropriety of speaking to him so frankly. ‘Henrietta has many admirable qualities, and I know I can be extremely irritating.’ She laughed lightly. ‘Papa allows me no self-delusions. My upbringing and experiences have been so different from Henrietta’s it is hardly surprising we do not always see eye to eye.’

He nodded. ‘We must also allow that young ladies in general are prone to heightened emotions and to behaviour which would be deplored in a man or an older lady. Debutantes must be forgiven their...’

‘Silliness?’ she offered tartly, remembering his judgemental comment about her.

He looked startled, but did not disagree. ‘What of tonight’s ball?’ he asked, in an attempt to divert her. ‘Do you mind that you do not go?’

‘Well, I thought I did not mind very much. Though now, when you are all ready to go, elegantly dressed and full of anticipation, I confess I do wish I was going with you. I hope you do not think me ridiculous, but I do like to dance now and again.’

‘You are not ridiculous at all,’ he said. ‘I should have liked to see you dance. I confess it does not sit well with me, leaving you here while we all go out. Is there no way you could have gone?’

‘I must be guided by my aunt. She assures me it would not be proper for me to go to a large London ball when I am not yet out. I was too late to be presented at Court this year. I have not lived in England, and I do not know these things myself.’

‘I see,’ he said, frowning slightly.

‘Lord Shalford!’ Henrietta’s strident tone interrupted their tête-à-tête. ‘The carriages are ready and we must go, for I should hate to miss the dancing. I adore dancing!’

The Earl bowed to Charlotte, smiled a rueful farewell, and took his place by Henrietta’s side.

‘Charlotte,’ said Henrietta sweetly, ‘do enjoy your quiet evening. You will be glad to see us gone, I am sure.’

‘Such a pity you cannot come to the ball,’ offered the Captain, sincere regret in his blue eyes. ‘Our party will not be the same without you. Will you be very lonely?’

Mrs Buxted looked displeased.

Charlotte hurriedly denied it, adding, ‘I hope you all enjoy your evening. I shall indeed enjoy the peace and quiet.’

They moved to the hallway, where the men were handed their hats, cloaks and canes. Charlotte stood back, wishing them gone, for this protracted farewell was difficult.

Finally they all moved to the door. At the last, the Earl turned to look at her, and his expression was strangely uncertain.

‘Come, Lord Shalford!’ Henrietta’s tone was imperious. ‘You shall travel in our carriage, for I must tell you more of my visit to Oxford.’

Then they were gone.

* * *

Charlotte hoped they didn’t pity her. She imagined them all, travelling to Lady Cowper’s townhouse. Henrietta would be enjoying her triumph, while Aunt Buxted would be focused on gaining every possible advantage for her daughters. Mr Buxted would already be thinking of meeting his cronies in the card room, and wondering what would be offered at supper.

Faith, with her kind heart, would not feel fully comfortable with Charlotte’s absence, but would be ably distracted by the charming Captain Fanton—and by the gentle Mr Foxley. As for the Earl—no doubt his attention would be fully claimed by the beautiful, wilful Henrietta.

Charlotte went to the library, then to the salon. She was at a loss as to what to do. She felt strangely flat, which surprised her, for she had not thought herself so shallow that the loss of a ball should so affect her. She was not ready to sleep, and reading could not hold her attention. She tried to write a letter to Papa, but the words would not come, and she sat down her pen in frustration.

After almost two hours of achieving nothing, she went to her room.

Priddy helped her prepare for bed, and expressed her opinion on balls and Court presentations and on. ‘Old women who have forgotten what it is to be young. Mark my words: she only did it to keep you away from the young gentlemen!’

‘Oh, Priddy! You must not say such things. It will make me even more angry, for I fear you are right. But we may be wrong. Why, when Henrietta was angry about my riding with them Aunt Buxted did not support her.’

Priddy snorted. ‘She’s a clever old bird. She has plans for her daughters and she will not brook opposition.’

‘But I am no opposition for her daughters. I have no wish for a husband, and I cannot match my cousins’ beauty.’

‘I do not understand how you can say you are not beautiful. You are no insipid yellow-haired milkmaid, it is true, but that is just a fashion. You have countenance, Miss Charlotte, and your good looks will last longer than Miss Buxted’s, mark my words.’

‘Oh, Priddy, I know your regard for me deceives you, but I thank you nevertheless.’

Priddy shook her head. ‘That’s not it. And as for not wanting a husband—it is every girl’s wish to get a nice husband.’ She stared into the distance. ‘To have a proper home of your own and little ones.’

‘Even you, Priddy?’ Charlotte was curious.

‘I confess when I was young there was a man.’ Her eyes softened. ‘We were to be married. But he was carried off by a fever. It was not to be.’

‘Oh, Priddy! I’m so sorry.’ Impulsively, she hugged the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother to her since she had lost her own mama.

‘Now, now,’ said Priddy gruffly. ‘It was a long time ago. But if you get the chance at happiness you must take it. We none of us know how long we have on this earth.’

Charlotte pondered Priddy’s words as she lay wide awake, listening to the sounds of the city at night—carriages rumbling, dogs barking, in the distance, some drunken singing. She knew better than most how easily lives could be snuffed out. Growing up as a war child, she had known many people to die—officers, foot soldiers and their wives—more often from illness and disease than from the heat of battle. She wondered if Captain Fanton, like many of the young men she had known, had felt the trauma of war and of loss.

Her mind moved on from the Captain to his brother. The Earl had been kind tonight. Not arrogant at all. She remembered his cool grey eyes fixing upon hers and felt a strange warmth in her chest. It was altogether confusing, for he held young ladies in disdain, and the squabble between Henrietta and herself would only have strengthened his prejudice.

Yet, surprisingly, her view of him was changing. Where she had seen arrogance and prejudice, she now saw warmth and compassion. Even more strange was this new feeling he had stirred in her. It was something like...affection, though there were other, stranger colours in it. It was a good feeling, though somewhat overshadowed by imagining them all at the ball.

She pictured them all, dancing, laughing, talking, and felt...alone.


Chapter Six (#u23f81156-3224-52fb-b847-78f98a744fdd)

Lady Sophia Annesley was in her drawing room when Adam called. As the Earl was a regular visitor, and one who was well known to all of her ladyship’s staff, he was shown straight in. Unfortunately when he arrived, Lady Sophia was stretched out on a sofa, gently snoring, a handkerchief over her face to protect her sensitive eyes from the harsh daylight.

Adam coughed discreetly.

She rose with a start, her cap slipping sideways and the comfortable blanket she had spread over her feet falling to the floor.

Retrieving the blanket, the Earl bent to help her into a sitting position and kiss her cheek. ‘Good day, Godmama. What a fetching cap!’

‘For goodness’ sake, Adam, why do you arrive without warning? You should always allow a lady to be ready for a visitor.’

She waved at him to be seated, so he placed himself beside her on the sofa.

Lady Sophia was a lady in her middle years, with a round figure and a pleasant, friendly visage. Her mind was sharp, and she knew everyone in society, keeping track of the latest on-dits through her extensive network of friends. She was well-known and popular, though some were wary of her, for she spoke her mind and was scathing of those she termed ‘fribbles, fools and imbeciles’.

Just now, she did not look quite so formidable.

Retying her cap under her left ear, and gathering her thoughts at the same time, Lady Sophia surveyed the Earl. He looked fresh and immaculately groomed. His boots were polished to a high gloss, his neckcloth perfectly tied, and his eyes clear and amused. Yet she knew he—like most of London’s elite—had drunk and eaten, danced and talked until the early hours of the morning at Lady Cowper’s ball.

‘Why are you so awake and so loud at this ungodly hour? I am not long arisen from my bed.’

‘But it is almost two o’clock.’

‘Yes, but it feels like the middle of the night! I believe there was something wrong with those prawns, you know, though I would never say so to Emily Cowper. I feel distinctly unwell.’

‘Well, you look as fresh as a newborn lamb, despite...er...the copious amounts of punch on offer last night.’

She eyed him malevolently. ‘Yes, thank you, Adam, but you really shouldn’t be barging in unannounced, you know.’

‘Aunt Sophia, you summoned me here. I dashed from my bed when I received your message, wondering what desperate crisis had occurred. I came as quickly as I could!’

‘Foolish boy! I have no time for your funning today.’ She patted his hand warmly, but then spoke intently. ‘Something of a most concerning nature has occurred.’

‘Do tell, pray.’

‘Last night at the ball the Fanton name was being bandied about in a most unpleasant way.’

He frowned. ‘Indeed? May I ask what was said?’

‘There’s the thing. I don’t know exactly. But I know the sort of tittle-tattle and gossip...’

‘Ah.’ He sat back. ‘And was this gossip perhaps related to the fact that we were part of the Buxted party at the ball?’

‘I cannot like it, Adam. We are Fantons. We should not be the subject of demeaning conversation from people with nothing else to do.’

‘What are the old tabbies saying? What can they possibly find amiss in our company last night? The Buxteds are a respectable family whose Surrey estate marches with ours. Why, we may have known them for a long time.’

‘Yes, but it is known you have never been intimate with them. It is drawing attention. It seems Mrs Buxted has been crowing about you visiting their house and having dinner, arranging riding excursions...’ She paused. ‘There are even rumours that the entire family have been invited to Chadcombe.’

‘And what if they have?’

She looked shocked ‘But, Adam, you must know it is too particular... It looks as if you may be planning to offer for one of the Buxted girls. Now, I must say since your father’s illness, and this last year, you have surprised all the naysayers who thought you would struggle to manage Chadcombe. I know as few do how things were let slip these last few years, with your mama gone and your father not himself...I also know how you are working hard to repair and improve the estate. You have behaved admirably, my boy. But there is no need to set up your nursery too soon, you know. Better to wait a while for the right girl to come along.’

The Earl remained expressionless.

She took his hand. ‘Tell me, Adam, do you think of marriage?’

‘Yes—no! I don’t know.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I had thought it sensible, but unfortunately I am having some difficulty in actually deciding to...well, to cross that particular Rubicon. I have had my fill of debutantes. They giggle and simper and talk too much—or not enough. Or they have no opinions. Or they have ill-informed opinions. Or they are...impudent.’

He rose, trying to shake away the memory of one particular young lady, and made an absent-minded study of Lady Annesley’s ormolu clock on the mantel.

‘I must at least consider it, Godmama. It is my duty to marry well. Grandfather almost ruined us, and Papa worried himself into an early grave trying to restore our fortunes. I have made a good start on the estate, but the house has lost some of its warmth since Mama died. It needs a mistress. And Olivia needs female company—someone other than Great-Aunt Clara. Olivia and I argue too much lately. I do not understand what goes on in the mind of a woman!’

‘What do you and Olivia argue about?’

‘She chafes against the restrictions of Chadcombe. She wishes to come out next season, now we are out of mourning, but in truth I cannot stomach the thought of squiring her to dozens of balls and routs. And as for Almack’s—with its orgeat and its gossips—’ He grimaced. ‘I have been trying hard this season to take my place in the Marriage Mart, but the whole game quite disgusts me!’

‘Adam, you have had it your own way for far too long. No, do not show me that face. I am not a debutante, to be slain by your wrathful looks. I am your aunt and your godmother and I shall tell you what I think.’

‘I am all attention, dear Aunt.’

‘You are a good boy, Adam. You work hard with the estate and your interest in politics does you credit. My brother—your poor father—would be proud of you. But you are accustomed to deference, and to having what you want. You have the freedom to go where you will, whenever you wish—to gambling dens, cockfights, boxing matches and other uncouth pursuits if you wish. You have independence. Try to remember Olivia does not.’

‘Olivia is well cared for. My great-aunt—’

‘Clara Langley is too old to be a fitting companion for a young lady. You know I love your mother’s elderly aunt, but she does not wish to go out in society and has no understanding of the needs of a young girl like Olivia.’

‘Which is why I must marry! My...my wife—’ he struggled with the word ‘—will look after Olivia, help her with her come-out and—’

‘But that is not a reason to marry. Why, I could take dear Olivia under my wing.’

‘Come, come, Aunt Sophia. You would hate it after a week. Like me, you are accustomed to independence. Since my uncle died—and I know you grieve deeply for him—you have built a good life as a widow, have you not?’

‘You know me too well. But, Adam, I will do it. If you do not find a lady you truly wish to marry—a lady you love and wish to share your life with—then I will bring Olivia out next season. There!’

He kissed her hand. ‘Best of aunts. I thank you—though I still believe you would detest it. How would you survive Almack’s every week?’

She struggled to answer.

‘Exactly!’

‘Wretch! Now, tell me—what of Harry? His name is being linked with the Buxted girls too, with speculation that he will also marry.’

The Earl considered this, his forehead creased. ‘I cannot say, for Harry no longer confides in me. He enjoys female company, and can flirt and make compliments much easier than I. But I do not know if he thinks of marriage... The wars have changed him, Godmama. Underneath the gaiety, he is still troubled, I think.’

‘He is young. Time will help him forget what he has seen. Now we have peace, and will not be murdered in our beds by Frenchmen, he can enjoy his duties without anxiety. You shake your head—do you disagree with me?’

‘I cannot be easy about Harry. He hides it well, but... I am being foolish, perhaps. Too much time to think and worry and ponder over things. And now this unfortunate mess. I am displeased that my attentions to the Buxted ladies have been noticed—and not just on my own behalf. I should not like to cause distress to any lady—and I should like the freedom to make my choice without an audience watching my every action.’

‘Tell me, have you invited them to Chadcombe? Just the mother and the daughters?’

‘I have—but not just Mrs Buxted and her daughters. The father too. And a relative who is staying with them.’

‘And who is your hostess? Clara?’

‘Yes, she has agreed to host. I know she struggles to manage the house at times, but she assures me she is happy to host this party.’

‘Good. May I advise you?’

‘Of course you may. You are, after all, my favourite aunt.’

‘I am your only aunt. Now, do listen, Adam. Mrs Buxted, from what I know of her, is a vain, silly woman who is ambitious for her daughters. She was Louisa Long before her marriage, and those Longs were always a little... Yes, well, she thinks she has triumphed because of the exclusivity of this invitation to Chadcombe. And, in truth, the exclusivity is what is stirring the gossips. If you have truly only invited them—’

‘Godmother, I thank you. I shall immediately invite a dozen eligible ladies and their families to divert suspicion.’

‘No, not a dozen. Poor Miss Langley—! Ah, you are jesting with me again, I see. Yes, do invite others to Chadcombe. And it would be wise to be seen escorting other young ladies as well—perhaps take one to the theatre with her family. That way, if you do choose to court one in particular, you can do so without giving ammunition to the gossips. But, Adam, listen to me now. Things have changed. In these modern times you do not have to marry out of duty. Better marry for love.’

‘Love?’ He laughed. ‘I have no desire to spout poetry and daydream of a lady’s fine eyes...’

He paused, then shook his head as if to rid himself of something.

‘I just want to find a sensible girl who won’t give me any trouble. I must think of the estate. We are in need of money, so I must marry well. The Buxted family owns Monkton Park, which would be a good addition to Chadcombe, and the mother rather clumsily informed me it is dowried on one of the daughters. On the other hand, Miss Etherington has a large dowry, which would boost our funds. And there is another lady—but I do not know what her fortune is.’

‘But, Adam, you have done well with the estate since your father died. Don’t forget that the woman you marry will be by your side till death parts you. You must think of that when you choose to marry.’

‘My problem, Godmama, is that I have never yet met a lady—apart from you, of course—who did not bore me or irritate me within a month of knowing her. And marrying to suit myself is not an option if it causes harm to my family.’

* * *

The Earl took his leave shortly afterwards, leaving his aunt in pensive mood. She lay down on her sofa again to think. Adam had had relationships with women of a certain class, she knew—for the ton knew everything—but she had never heard of him losing his heart.

He was popular with ladies—the older ones responded to his serious nature, the younger ones liked his handsome face and figure—but he always held a certain reserve. He was used to seeking the company of his friends, and had never, to Sophia’s knowledge, engaged in a true friendship with any lady. Adam, like many men, saw ladies as decorative irritations, to be tolerated and enjoyed.

Some young ladies, Sophia acknowledged, did not help matters with their behaviour. And the Marriage Mart itself encouraged young ladies to flirt and be silly to attract attention. She sighed. If Adam was to marry now, one of the simpering misses he so disdained, the marriage would be a disaster.

In this, his sense of duty would work against him. He had been raised with a love of Chadcombe, and the knowledge that when his father was gone the responsibility for the people and the place would pass to him. It had always made him more cautious, more sober—older than his years.

He had not, until now, shown a particular interest in any young lady. That, she guessed, was why the gossips were so fascinated by his attentions towards the Buxteds.

She knew the Buxted family a little, but not well. The mother had managed to engineer a formal introduction last night, so Sophia could now acknowledge them, which would allow her to find out more. Adam had not denied being interested in Miss Buxted, so Sophia needed to meet her—and quickly. She was not at all convinced that the girl she had met last night would make a suitable countess, or that Adam should have Louisa Long for a mother-in-law.

To call on them would be too obvious, drawing exactly the sort of attention she had just warned Adam about. She would have to find another way...

She was still trying to think of how she would manage it when sleep again claimed her.

* * *

Charlotte returned to the house after her usual morning walk, wondering if the ladies were still abed.

‘Thank you, Sarah,’ she said to the housemaid who had accompanied her.

Sarah had informed her that the Buxted ladies had returned late into the night, and that the night footman had reported downstairs that the ladies had been in raptures over their success.

Hearing this, Charlotte had not known whether to be glad or sorry. Of course she wanted her cousins and her aunt to enjoy themselves—and she hoped Henrietta would be easier company today—but some selfish part of her had wanted to hear that the evening had been flat, or dull, or that nobody had danced.

Scolding herself for such uncharitable thoughts, she went to the breakfast parlour—a small, bright room where she found all three ladies indulging in a light nuncheon of rolls, fruit and cold meat.

‘Oh, Charlotte, there you are. Where have you been?’ Mrs Buxted looked her usual calm self, but she had a self-satisfied air, sitting upright and smiling benevolently on her daughters.

‘Walking, Aunt Buxted. You recall that I ride or walk every morning if I can—though today I was later than usual, as I was waiting for Sarah to accompany me and she was on an errand for Cook.’

Aunt Buxted was only half listening. ‘Yes, yes...do not ever go unaccompanied. You are living under my husband’s roof, and anything you do reflects on us. Sit here, girl, and pass me the beef.’

‘Yes, Aunt. How was your evening?’

‘A triumph! My girls were a great success. I declare they hardly sat down all night, for they danced almost every dance. And Lord Shalford and his brother were most attentive.’

‘Oh, Mama! Did you see Millicent Etherington looking at me when I was dancing with the Earl? She must be so jealous that he accompanied us and not her to the ball. And he only danced with her because he couldn’t dance with me all night.’

‘He danced with Beatrice Ross too.’

‘Yes, Faith—which proves what I just said. He danced with four different ladies, but he came here for dinner—and they all knew it.’

‘Did you dance, Faith?’

‘Yes, I danced with Mr Foxley, and the Captain, and the Earl.’ She smiled shyly. ‘I had a wonderful evening. I do feel tired today, though. I am not accustomed to so much dancing.’

Charlotte smiled back at her as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

‘Well, you should remember it, Faith,’ said her sister, ‘for it may not happen for you again. There will be nights when you may have to sit and watch. Of course I am rarely short of partners.’

‘I was also busy on your behalf, girls,’ said Mrs Buxted. ‘I was introduced to Lady Annesley last night.’

Her announcement did not have the desired effect. All three young ladies looked at her blankly.

‘Who is Lady Annesley, Mama?’ asked Henrietta.

‘If you had properly studied the copy of Mr Debrett’s book I gave you, you would know exactly who she is.’

Henrietta squirmed slightly, while Faith looked anxious.

Mrs Buxted tutted, then told them. ‘She is Shalford’s aunt—his father’s sister. He is, they say, extremely close to her.’

‘Yes...?’ Henrietta looked confused. ‘And why should we be interested in her?’

‘You are very stupid today, Henrietta. She will influence him.’ Mrs Buxted applied herself to her beef. ‘Why, in my day it was the families who decided who would marry whom. None of this nonsense of allowing young people to choose. I hardly knew Mr Buxted when we were wed, but I submitted, as a dutiful daughter must, to my parents’ wishes.’

Henrietta snorted. ‘But, Mama, we have no need for help from a silly old aunt. If he is in love with me then he will marry me, no matter what she says.’

Charlotte carefully set down her cup, having found herself gripping the delicate handle tightly. For some reason Henrietta’s words were particularly grating. The thought of the Earl falling in love with Henrietta shouldn’t bother her. But perhaps, now that she was beginning to see him in a better light, she did not want him to be chained to Henrietta for a lifetime.

‘Yes, well, that’s as may be—but until he approaches your father we can take nothing for granted. We will visit Lady Annesley today.’

‘Oh, no, Mama,’ wailed Henrietta. ‘Must we?’

* * *

Mrs Buxted would not be moved, despite Henrietta’s pleadings. And two hours later, feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Charlotte found herself in Lady Annesley’s hallway. Mrs Buxted, unaware or unconcerned that such a direct approach might be poorly thought of by Lady Annesley, had insisted on this visit to that lady’s home, accompanied by all three girls.

Lady Annesley’s butler, who was eying them all assessingly, held Mrs Buxted’s card by one corner as she spoke to him.

‘Do tell dear Lady Annesley that Mrs Buxted is here to see her. We had the pleasure of welcoming her two charming nephews to our humble home for dinner last night.’

The butler showed them into an empty drawing room, bowed, and left.

Waiting, the young ladies sat stiffly, listening to Mrs Buxted’s last-minute instructions.

‘And you, Faith, should not speak much. It is Henrietta who must have priority.’

‘But, Mama, what if she should speak to me directly, or ask me a question?’

‘Then you should answer, but keep it brief. Foolish girl. Do not try my patience!’

‘Lady Sophia Annesley,’ intoned the butler.

Lady Annesley swept into the room. If she had heard the conversation between Faith and her mother she affected not to have done so. Charlotte’s discomfort increased. They should not be here.

‘Mrs Buxted. What an unexpected pleasure. Yes, of course I remember you. We met last night, did we not? A most pleasant evening, though the prawns were a little... Yes, well, it was a crush as always. Emily Cowper will be pleased. May I offer you some ratafia? Tea?’

She waved to the butler, who left to secure the refreshments.

‘And these are your daughters?’

Mrs Buxted, all smiles, made the introductions.

Lady Annesley surveyed the Buxted girls critically. ‘Yes, both good-looking girls, Mrs Buxted. Accomplished dancers, too—I saw them dance the quadrille last night with my nephews.’

Mrs Buxted looked pleased.

Henrietta fluttered her lashes and tilted her head to one side, saying, ‘Thank you, Lady Annesley.’

Lord, thought Charlotte, she flirts with everyone. But Henrietta, she noted, had not seen Lady Annesley’s wry smile.

‘And who is this young lady?’ Lady Annesley turned her intelligent gaze to Charlotte.

‘This is Miss Charlotte Wyncroft. Her mother was my husband’s cousin.’

Lady Annesley started, then smiled broadly. ‘Then you are Sir Edward’s daughter! I did not know you were in England. Is your father with you? How is the old rogue? Is he still breaking hearts in Vienna?’

‘He is now breaking hearts in Paris, if I am not mistaken.’ Charlotte smiled.

Lady Annesley laughed. ‘I do not doubt it. So you are Maria’s little daughter, who was born in Portugal. Well, a fine young lady you have become. What an elegant dress. Never say this was made by a London modiste.’ She studied Charlotte’s stylish walking dress—a figured muslin with embroidered trim, complete with matching spencer.

‘No, indeed. It was made by Madame Diebolt, an émigrée in Vienna. All the ladies compete for her best work—I do declare she has us all under her control.’

‘She is clearly a genius. Such stitch-work. Such a cut. And you wear it with style, Miss Wyncroft. How long do you stay in London?’





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