To Win the Lady Read online

  ‘What could I be going to do that is rash?’ she asked, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Do not dispose of Rowan Park. There is no need...’

  ‘Major, I have no plans to dispose of it; you should know that. Felicity shall have her dowry.

  ‘It was not of your sister’s dowry I was thinking,’ he said angrily, ‘but of you. If you should ever need help, I am at your service...’

  ‘Thank you, Major, but I can manage my own affairs,’ she said, thrusting her chin into the air and looking him straight in the eye, though it was a rash thing to do because he was regarding her with an expression so filled with tender concern, it was all she could do not to burst into tears. ‘And Felicity’s, too.’

  ‘Father and mother both,’ he said. ‘I fear the burden is too much for you, my valiant trooper.’

  ‘Go away,’ she said, choking back tears. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘Of course I do. Go and find Felicity.’

  He picked up her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘Yours to command, dear lady.’ His soft voice of a moment before had become light, almost frivolous. ‘I will find your sister and bring her safely back to you.’ With that, he got up and strolled away, leaving her shaking and spent as if she had run a mile in heavy boots.

  And she had still not apologised for her behaviour at the theatre. But it did not seem to matter now, not after what had just happened. Their conversation had been so intimate, so deep, as if each had been trying to convey something of which they were only dimly aware. It had been wrong, even more wrong than the slight she had given him at the theatre; she felt as though she had betrayed her sister. And, in analysing the reason for that, she realised suddenly that she loved Richard Baverstock.

  She was so shocked that she started up with a little cry, scrambled to her feet and walked quickly along the towpath, away from the sounds of merriment, away from the company, to be alone to compose herself. It could not be. He did not love her; he looked upon her as a rather inadequate chaperon, a provider for her sister. ‘Staid and proper’, he had called her, and, even though he had repudiated it, that was what she had to be.

  Half an hour later she returned and calmly took her place in the barouche for the journey back to Holles Street. But her new composure was soon tested when Richard appeared with Felicity on his arm. He gallantly raised her hand to his lips and handed her up to sit beside Georgie, smiling as if there were no one else in the world for him. ‘Goodbye, Miss Felicity. I shall look forward to calling on you tomorrow.’ Then he touched his hat to Georgie, bowed to Mrs Bertram who was already in her place opposite, and stood back to allow the carriage to proceed.

  Georgie found she had been holding her breath and now she let it out slowly and almost sagged in her seat, thankful to be away from those searching eyes. How glad she was that she was returning to Rowan Park at the end of the week. In the stables, among the horses, she could make herself busy and try to forget that she had loved and lost.

  She was not the only one who was quiet on that journey home. Felicity had little to say, but Mrs Bertram was cheerful enough for all three. ‘I do believe you have taken, child,’ she said, addressing Felicity. ‘The Major is definitely interested. He will offer within the week, I’ll lay odds.’

  ‘Oh, dear, do you think so, Aunt?’ Felicity said. ‘So soon? And what must I do?’

  ‘He will ask permission to address you and when he does you must tell him you are honoured and will think seriously about it. Promise to give him his answer in two or three days, when you have had an opportunity to discuss it with your family.’

  ‘It all seems a tarradiddle to me,’ her niece said. ‘We’ve talked of nothing else for days.’

  ‘It is the way it is done, my dear.’

  ‘And Georgie?’ She turned to look at her sister who was leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed as if she were not listening. But she was, because she sat up and pulled her hat straight. ‘You must do exactly as you wish, dearest,’ she said, surprising herself for her voice sounded so level and down-to-earth. ‘Do not let anyone browbeat you. If you like the Major...’ She could not go on for a lump which had suddenly constricted her throat.

  ‘Oh, I do. He is very handsome and very attentive, but I cannot say I love him.’

  ‘Love will come later,’ Mrs Bertram said firmly. ‘It does not do to have passionate feelings before the wedding; it doesn’t do at all.’

  ‘End in tears,’ Georgie murmured, but she was thinking of something else entirely.

  ‘Quite right,’ their aunt said. ‘And I think you should leave the details of the marriage contract to Colonel Bertram. I will write to him tomorrow. Something as important as this will surely bring him home.’

  But she had no need to write to her husband for he arrived the very next day with news that put his wife into a fine froth.

  Once he had been welcomed by his wife in the restrained manner she used in company, he greeted the girls cheerfully and they responded with affection, though it was many years since they had seen him.

  He was not a tall man, but he had a presence which commanded respect. He had a squarish face, buffeted by wind and weather so that his skin looked almost leathery, but he had piercing blue eyes which seemed to take in a situation at a glance and missed nothing, which was why he was such a good commander in the field and why, in peacetime, he was a respected negotiator. When his services as a soldier were no longer required, he was pressed into service as a diplomat.

  ‘Must go up and change,’ he said, indicating a small portmanteau which his man was at that moment carrying upstairs. Then, turning to his wife, he asked, ‘Coming, m’dear? I’ve something of import to tell you.’

  She followed, leaving the two girls to amuse themselves until husband and wife returned and by then it was time for dinner.

  ‘The Colonel will be returning almost at once,’ Mrs Bertram told them over the turbot. ‘He has been appointed to be an aide at the Embassy in Paris.’

  ‘May I offer our congratulations, Sir?’ Georgie said.

  ‘Thank you. But that is not all.’ He paused and sipped his wine. ‘I am afraid I must take Mrs Bertram with me. I expect to do a great deal of entertaining.’

  The implication of that slowly dawned on the girls; without Mrs Bertram they could not stay in London. ‘Oh, do not give it another thought,’ Georgie said. ‘We can go back to Rowan Park. The Season is at an end now anyway.’

  ‘But I had just got the Major up to the mark and Lord Barbour would take little persuasion to offer for you, Georgiana; he is already enamoured.’ She turned to her husband. ‘A week, another week, and I shall accompany you with a clear conscience.’

  ‘Do not trouble yourself on our account, Aunt,’ Georgie said, feeling nothing but relief at the thought of going home to Rowan Park where she felt safe and at ease.

  But her aunt would not hear of abandoning her mission; nor would she allow Georgie to return home without Felicity as she had originally intended. ‘I’ll bring my ball forward to next Thursday,’ she said as soon as she had inveigled her husband into admitting that he was not expected at his new post for another week. ‘I think it can be done and it will be a fitting end to the Season. All will come about, you will see.’

  With a heavy heart, Georgie agreed to stay.

  Chapter Five

  The next day the whole house was put into an uproar as Mrs Bertram endeavoured to bring forward all the arrangements for her ball, summoning the cook and the butler to go over what was needed in the way of food and drink, sending orders to the florists, booking musicians and setting the housemaids to cleaning and polishing the ballroom, a task which until then they thought they had plenty of time to do. There was less than a week to accomplish everything which normally took three at least and no one thought it could be done, except the lady of the house and she would brook no argument. It was useless to tell her that her guests themselves might have other engagements on that day; she was
a forceful lady and if she said the last ball of the Season would be the best and no one who was anyone would decline to attend, then they had to accept that she was right.

  By afternoon, having satisfied herself that she would be ready, she prevailed upon Felicity and Georgie to help her write out new invitations and they were kept busy until well into the evening.

  The last thing either girl wanted after that was to go out, but Mrs Bertram’s great friend, Caro Sopwithy, had arranged a musical soiree for that very evening and they were required to attend. Georgie, who had the day before begun to pack ready to return to Rowan Park, found herself unpacking again and fetching out a blue crepe open gown with short puff-sleeves and a high bodice caught under the bosom with a cluster of flowers and a long ribbon bow. The underslip of pale satin had become a little creased but Fanny was on hand to press it and dress her hair with the hairpiece she had worn before, so that when the time came to leave she looked serenely elegant. It was certainly not how she felt. Beneath the cool exterior there was a young lady in a state of panic.

  It was too much to hope that Major Baverstock would not be present, for she was sure her aunt had made certain he would be, but she hoped fervently that she could stay far enough away not to be obliged to converse with him. If she did, she would give herself away; she would not be able to help it. She would be mortified with embarrassment and if Felicity found out she would turn him down, no matter that Richard himself was entirely indifferent to her. Her sister must never know.

  Felicity was demurely dressed in white figured muslin trimmed with silk rosebuds and with more rosebuds in her coiled hair, the epitome of a young lady in her first Season, and Mrs Bertram smiled her approval. ‘If not tonight, then next week at the ball, you will have your offer,’ she promised her. ‘Oh, it will be a fitting end to the Season and I shall leave for France content in the knowledge that I have done my duty by you.’

  But strangely Felicity did not look at all elated by the prospect, though when Georgie tackled her about it when they were alone in the upper room set aside by their hostess for the ladies to leave their cloaks and repair their toilette she laughed. ‘I am nervous, that’s all.’

  ‘There is no need to be. He cannot fail to love you, Felicity, and I am sure he will never do anything to hurt you. I’ll wager he will become your devoted slave in no time at all and will do everything in his power to please you. You will be ordering him about and arranging Dullingham House just as you want it and no one to say you nay. There are servants in plenty so you won’t have to lift a finger yourself.’ She smiled. ‘No more housekeeping on a shoestring as you have been trying to do at Rowan Park. And you will have lots of lovely, healthy children and be happy...’ She could not go on. The picture she was painting of life with Richard was so desirable, she was making herself miserable.

  ‘But what about you, Georgie? I do not like to leave you on your own...’

  ‘I shall not be on my own. There is Fanny and Mrs Thorogood and Mrs Wardle and Dawson and Tom and the horses...’

  ‘Horses!’ Felicity laughed. ‘I do believe you will be happy with nothing but horses.’

  ‘Of course I shall.’ Georgie realised what a whisker that was as soon as she uttered it. Now she knew she loved Richard Baverstock, she would never be truly happy without him.

  ‘What about Lord Barbour? I am persuaded he would like to offer for you, if you would only give him the least bit of encouragement. Aunt Harriet seems to think he should suit...’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Georgie said. It would not do to let her sister know how much she disliked the man. ‘But I am in no hurry. Whoever takes me on must realise I am no yearling and it is almost impossible to teach an old dog new tricks.’

  Felicity rippled with laughter at the mixed metaphor her sister had employed, but she knew exactly what she meant. ‘Oh, dear, I do not think I envy him,’ she said, eyeing herself in the mirror to make sure all was well before they went down to the reception-room where the entertainment was to take place. ‘I think you might fight.’

  ‘Very likely,’ Georgie agreed, picking up her reticule. ‘But you must know I am used to having my own way over almost everything, so have no fear for me. Now let us hope the music is lively for if it is not I declare I shall fall asleep in my chair.’

  Mrs Sopwithy had employed a string quartet, a soprano who was enormously fat and a tenor who was to sing the latest ballads, some of which were a little risque, but he was all the rage and it was a triumph that she had managed to engage him at all. If the songs he sang were not for young ears, then it was up to the chaperons of the young ears to take them to the drawing-room to play fishes or something equally innocuous. At any rate the entertainment was lively enough to keep Georgie and Felicity awake, though their aunt dozed a little.

  They did not encounter the Major until the intermission, when they went to the dining-room where a light supper was being served. Georgie had not seen him in the music-room and suspected he had been playing cards with Lord Hereward and Colonel Bertram, who followed him into the room and took up their places beside their respective wives, leaving him to join Georgie and Felicity who were sitting with Juliette Hereward and John Melford, discussing the music.

  ‘There you are!’ John greeted him. ‘I had almost given you up for lost.’

  Richard bowed to the ladies. ‘How could I absent myself from such dazzling company?’

  ‘Do sit down, Major,’ Felicity said. ‘Tell us what you thought of the soprano.’

  ‘A trifle overlarge,’ he said pithily. ‘But perhaps to have a big voice one needs a big frame; what do you think?’

  She laughed. ‘She certainly had a big voice. Did you manage to hear her in the card-room?’

  ‘Oh, bang on target, Miss Felicity,’ John laughed. One might have expected Miss Felicity Paget to be overshadowed by her tall, dominating sister, but she had a quiet humour of her own which he found delightful. She was certainly no wilting violet.

  Richard smiled. ‘I am penitent, Miss Felicity. Shall you be entertaining us later? I have been told you have a sweet voice.’

  Georgie did not wait for her sister’s reply; it was torment to sit so close, to watch the big soldier paying court to her sister when she wanted it for herself. She could almost have reached out and touched him and the thought of doing that set her body tingling. It was not to be borne.

  She excused herself and wandered off alone, trying to calm the hammering of her heart and the buzzing in her head. Would it always be like this? In the months and years to come, would she learn not to mind so much? Would she ever be able to look on him as a brother and behave lightly and affectionately towards him, love her nieces and nephews and never wish they were her own?

  Perhaps Felicity would reject him. But no, she would not; their aunt had schooled her too well, and besides, was that not what she, Georgiana Paget, had been scheming for all along?

  Angry with herself, she brushed tears from her cheeks and sped along the corridor, paying no heed to where her feet were taking her. It was stifling and she needed air. She pulled open a door and found herself in a large conservatory, full of potted plants and clinging vines. Beyond it she could see the garden and a fountain playing. One or two people strolled about, enjoying the evening air after the heat of the house, and she hurried across the marble floor towards the open door to the terrace.

  ‘Miss Paget, how opportune! We can take the air together.’

  She did not need to turn to know who had spoken: the booming voice of Lord Barbour was unmistakable. He had been sitting on a bench just inside the conservatory, but now he hurried to her side. ‘Hot indoors, ain’t it?’ he said, running a finger round the inside of his huge cravat. Its ends were arranged over the top of a striped brocade waistcoat stretched dangerously tightly over his portly stomach.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, trying to sound normal; if he guessed she had been crying, he would make himself more objectionable than ever.

  ‘Need to cool off,’ he said, t
hough she was not sure if he was referring to himself or asking her a question. ‘But someone as fetching as you ain’t any business to be out alone.’

  ‘I am not alone, my lord, there are other people.’

  ‘Ah, to be sure, but you are not escorted.’ He fell into step beside her as she crossed the lawn towards the fountain. Somehow it became her mecca; if she could reach it without betraying her misery, she might survive the encounter unscathed. ‘Let me do the honourable. Escort you.’

  ‘There is no need, my lord,’ she said. ‘I am quite happy in my own company.’

  ‘Oh, come, Miss Paget, don’t gammon me. No young lady likes to be alone. You just ain’t willing to admit you ain’t got an escort.’

  Her misery turned to anger and she stopped to face him. ‘My lord, I am not in the habit of telling lies.’

  ‘No, course not,’ he said, appearing chagrined. ‘Ask pardon.’

  ‘The evening air is cooler than I thought,’ she remarked. ‘I think I’ll go back.’

  ‘Now I’ve offended,’ he said, following as she turned towards the house again. ‘Didn’t mean to. You’re a fine specimen, high-stepping, strong in wind. But at your last prayers, ain’t that so?’

  ‘If by that vulgar term you mean I am desperate for a husband, then I tell you, Lord Barbour, you are way off the mark.’

  ‘That so? No one will deal with you over horses; you must have realised that already. How will you come about, when you swallow a spider?’

  ‘I will not become bankrupt, my lord, you may depend upon it.’

  ‘I hope you may not. Sir Henry would turn in his grave to think his prime stock was dispersed. Must keep it together.’

  ‘Quite so,’ she said, angry that he should have penetrated her mind. ‘I intend to keep it together. Might even expand a little.’ She tried to sound confident but it was only empty boasting and she guessed he knew that.

  They had arrived at the door of the conservatory and he followed her inside, dogging her footsteps as she crossed the floor to return to the music-room. ‘Now, my lord, if you will excuse me...’