Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife Read online

  Rosamund let them rattle on, giving her one reason after another why it would be the height of folly to reject his lordship and outlining the many advantages, all of which she already knew. By the time they had drunk the tea she had ordered and eaten the last of the cake in the house, she was almost convinced. But not enough to admit it.

  The following morning Cook left for a new post as under-cook at a large estate in Hertfordshire and Janet took herself off to her sister, where she intended to stay until she found a new position. Left alone in the empty house, Rosamund sat on her trunk in the hall with a portmanteau beside her to await her aunt’s arrival, contemplating her life as Lady Bonhaven’s companion and trying to compare it with what Lord Portman had offered. She came to the conclusion she had been a fool to turn him down.

  Her aunt arrived, bustling into the house and surveying her niece and her luggage with a critical eye. ‘I really should have taken you to shop for a new mourning gown,’ she said. ‘That one is far too shabby. Her ladyship will not wish you to dress à la mode, but she will certainly expect you to look respectable. I wonder if it is too late. We could see if we can find a ready-made gown at one of the shops.’

  ‘No, Aunt, it is not necessary,’ Rosamund said firmly. ‘I am not going to Lady Bonhaven’s. Will you please convey to her my regrets and apologies for the short notice.’

  The old lady’s face lit up. ‘You are going to accept Lord Portman?’

  ‘Yes, I think I must. If he will still have me.’

  ‘Of course he will. No gentleman would go back on an offer once made.’

  Rosamund gave a wry smile. ‘Let us go and put it to the test, shall we?’

  ‘My dear girl, you cannot call on a single gentleman, do show some sense. Come home with me and I will invite him to call. We must do this properly.’

  She looked startled when her niece burst into laughter. Keyed up to almost breaking point, she laughed until the tears ran down her face. ‘Oh, Aunt, how can you talk of propriety in a situation like this?’ she said, wiping her streaming eyes on her handkerchief. She became serious as her aunt requested her to get up off the trunk and let her footmen carry it out to the coach. While this was being done, Rosamund checked that all doors and windows were secure, refusing to give way to nostalgia over the task, and then followed her aunt out to her coach.

  Chapter Four

  Harry was in the library of his home, writing up notes for the Gentleman’s Club, a requirement for all the members when on a case, when a letter was brought to him from Mrs Bullivant, requesting him to call on her at Chandos Street that afternoon. It was a minute or two before he could place the lady and then he remembered being presented to her by Miss Chalmers. He allowed himself a faint smile and calmly continued with his writing. He finished it just before noon and went into the dining room to eat a leisurely luncheon, after which he ordered his landau to be brought to the door, then went to his bedroom and began stripping off the riding coat he had been wearing. ‘I think the lilac coat and the flowered satin waistcoat and white small clothes.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Jack had long ago given up trying to understand his master’s whims where clothes were concerned. He was just as likely to dress as a street porter as a macaroni and when he donned those clothes, his character changed to match. He could be a porter, a macaroni or a Corinthian with equal ease. Today, it appeared, he was to be a Corinthian, beautifully, but not outrageously, attired.

  The valet fetched out the suit and helped him change into it. ‘Shoes, my lord?’ he queried.

  ‘Not the red heels, definitely not those,’ he answered, frowning at the pair Jack had produced. ‘The black with the silver buckles.’

  A tall white wig was fetched after these were donned, but was waved away. ‘The small toupee with the side curls,’ he said, looking in the mirror and meditating on where to put a patch and then deciding not to bother.

  He topped the outfit with a three-cornered hat and, picking up his cane, declared himself ready. Jack watched him go with some satisfaction. He liked to see his master well dressed and today he looked extremely fine. Ten to one there was a lady behind it.

  Harry smiled a little as his coach carried him to Chandos Street. He could be wrong, of course, but he would lay a guinea to a sixpence, Miss Chalmers had changed her mind, or been persuaded to, and Mrs Bullivant had determined to do the thing properly. This play was rapidly becoming a farce.

  He was admitted by a liveried footman and conducted to the drawing room, where he found Mrs Bullivant and Sir Max waiting to receive him, but no sign of Miss Chalmers. So, he was to be interviewed by her family before being allowed a few minutes alone with her. Considering their conversation in the Ranelagh Gardens, it was laughable. But he kept a straight face as he bowed to them and Mrs Bullivant bade him be seated and ordered refreshments.

  While these were being prepared, they conversed about the warm weather, which Mrs Bullivant found very wearying, and the crowds who were already flocking to London for the celebrations. At a time when the haut monde would normally all be leaving the capital for their country homes, they were choosing to stay. ‘It is particularly tiresome for those of us who live here all the year round,’ the lady said. ‘When we can hope for a little peace and quiet, it is noisier and busier than ever. And not a chair to be had when one needs one.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.

  ‘I collect you have a country estate in Middlesex, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Bishop’s Court. It is between Isle-worth and Hounslow, conveniently near town and yet far enough out to escape the smoke and fog and noisome streets of the capital.’

  The conversation was brought to an end by the arrival of the refreshments and Mrs Bullivant busied herself making and pouring tea and offering little cakes. There was silence for a moment as they drank and ate. Harry waited patiently for them to come to the purpose of the summons. He wished he and Rosamund could have arranged everything together without this charade, but it would not be polite to hurry them along.

  At last, Mrs Bullivant put down her cup. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘My niece tells me you have offered her marriage.’

  ‘So I did. She declined.’

  ‘Perhaps because the manner of making it was…’ she hesitated, searching for a way of telling him politely that he had gone the wrong way about it ‘…not quite proper,’ she added lamely.

  He only just refrained from laughing. ‘I stand corrected.’

  ‘I think if you were to ask her again, you might have a different answer,’ the lady said. ‘Do you wish to ask her again?’

  ‘Naturally, I do.’

  She picked up a little bell from the table at her side and rang it vigorously. When a maid came in answer to the summons she was despatched to fetch Miss Chalmers.

  Rosamund was as amused by her aunt’s antics as Harry was, but she entered the room demurely and curtsied to him, as he rose to bow to her. ‘My lord.’

  ‘Your obedient, Miss Chalmers. Are you well?’ This was not simply a polite enquiry; he had noticed how pale she was. Was the prospect of being married to him so daunting?

  ‘Perfectly well, my lord.’

  ‘Rosamund,’ said her aunt, ‘Lord Portman has something to say to you, so we will retire and you may have a few minutes alone with him.’ And with that, she rose and majestically left the room, followed by Max.

  As soon as the door had closed on them, Rosamund burst out laughing. ‘Oh, my lord, I am sorry for that, indeed I am, but my aunt would not countenance me approaching you myself.’

  He was laughing himself, glad to see she had not lost her sense of humour and was not, as he had supposed, cast down by the situation. ‘Oh, no, that would never do. And I have been reproached for proposing to you in a manner that was bound to draw a rejection on account of its being not quite proper.’

  ‘Did she really say that?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Indeed she did.’

  ‘Then I am sorry for it.’


  ‘No matter.’ He drew her down on to the sofa beside him. ‘Did you turn me down on those grounds?’

  ‘No. That is absurd. I…I was not sure…’

  ‘And now you are?’

  She nodded without speaking, afraid her voice would give away the fact that she still had enormous doubts, but his proposal was preferable to the alternative.

  ‘Then, Miss Chalmers, will you do me the inestimable honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘On the conditions you outlined on Saturday evening?’

  ‘If they are acceptable to you, ma’am.’

  ‘I accept,’ she said solemnly.

  His memory suddenly furnished him with a picture of Beth when he proposed to her. She had been shy at first and then her face had lit up and she had literally thrown herself into his arms. That had not been proper behaviour either, but it had delighted him. This was very different. Miss Chalmers was not just out of the schoolroom, as Beth had been. It was, he reminded himself, one of the reasons he had chosen the lady. All the same he ought to display some sign of his pleasure. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, before placing it gently back in her lap. ‘Thank you, my dear. I must arrange to have the banns read. When and where would it be convenient to you to have the ceremony?’

  ‘I am afraid it has been taken out of my hands, my lord. My aunt and my brother are vying with each other to make all the arrangements to see me off. I know it is not what you had planned—a quiet wedding in the country, you said—so perhaps you can persuade them not to make a great to-do about it.’

  He smiled wryly. The brother and aunt had not even wanted to give her house room before he proposed. Now, he supposed, having realised their plain Jane had netted a fairly big fish, they intended to make the most of it. He squashed his inclination to insist on a quiet ceremony, knowing it would cause more gossip when the news did get out and that would not be fair on his bride. ‘My dear, I shall not even try, unless you wish it,’ he said. ‘A lady ought to be able to puff herself up on her wedding day, if no other. And as far as the haut monde is concerned, there is to be nothing havey-cavey about this wedding.’

  ‘You are very kind.’

  ‘I hope I may always be kind, Rosamund.’ It was spoken quietly and went some way to stilling her doubts.

  There was a scratching at the door and Mrs Bullivant put her head round it. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Rosamund answered.

  They came into the room, Mrs Bullivant all eagerness, Max a little more sedately. ‘Are we to offer felicitations?’ the old lady asked.

  Harry bowed to her. ‘You may. Miss Chalmers has agreed to wed me.’

  ‘Oh, happy, happy day!’ she exclaimed as if it were the first time she had heard of it.

  ‘Congratulations, Portman,’ Max said, offering his hand. Harry took it, noting how clammy it was.

  ‘When is it to be?’ Mrs Bullivant demanded. ‘I think, under the circumstances, we may shorten the period of mourning. We can say Joshua knew what was in the wind and asked especially that Rosamund should not regard it.’

  ‘I was not acquainted with Sir Joshua,’ Harry pointed out, inwardly laughing at the old lady’s imaginative fabrication.

  ‘My brother knew everyone and everyone knew him,’ Jessica maintained. ‘I cannot think how you can say such a thing. Why, he was a member of all the clubs, as I am sure you are.’

  ‘Of course,’ Harry said, deciding to go along with her. ‘I met him several times, played cards and drank with him, only natural he should speak of his daughter and make us known to each other. Long-standing acquaintanceship, goes back to my own father. Why, he even recommended the union of our two families.’ Catching sight of Rosamund’s expression, he frowned at her to stop her laughing aloud.

  ‘Then we can arrange the wedding for a month from now, if that is convenient to you, my lord.’

  ‘Perfectly convenient. I will leave the arrangements to you, ma’am.’

  ‘My niece may stay with me until then and be married from here. I will see to everything concerning the wedding. Max, as head of the family, must arrange financial matters.’

  ‘Yes, shall we do that now?’ Max suggested. ‘We could go into the book room and leave the ladies to their discussions on ribbons and gowns and suchlike.’

  Harry bowed and followed Max from the room, leaving a triumphant Mrs Bullivant to face her niece. ‘There!’ she said. ‘You may count yourself very fortunate indeed.’

  ‘I do, Aunt, but about the wedding…’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I am not in the first flush of youth and I do not want to be puffed up as though I were. I wish for a quiet wedding. After all, I am still in mourning. Besides, I have nothing to wear.’

  ‘That will all be taken care of. We shall go shopping for a gown and wedding clothes. We must make lists…’ She went on to enumerate the many lists, guests, food, wine, flowers, but Rosamund had ceased to listen. She was too busy wondering just what she had done. What would the haut monde make of it? An unknown, unimportant, impoverished spinster catching a baron of immense wealth and consequence—how had she managed it? She could imagine the tongues wagging and wished it were all over and she was safely in the country, away from the gossips, trying to adjust to her new life.

  ‘You do understand, there can be no question of a dowry,’ Max was saying to Harry. ‘I explained our situation at the start, did I not?’

  ‘Oh, explicitly,’ Harry said. ‘It is of no moment.’

  ‘But I do not want Rosie to know that. It would hurt her feelings. Could you perhaps pretend you have received a small dowry?’

  ‘With all the pleasure in the world, my dear fellow. I will do nothing to hurt her feelings.’

  ‘And the wedding. My aunt is determined on some sort of show, and given your standing in society, it is to be expected, but I find myself unable to—’ He stopped. ‘You see how it is?’

  ‘Perfectly. Will five hundred pounds suffice?’

  ‘You are very generous, my lord,’ Max said, deciding two hundred would amply cover a quiet wedding, as long as Rosie did not find out the true amount. ‘But—’

  ‘But I should not tell Miss Chalmers about that either,’ Harry finished for him. ‘I understand. It would look as though I were buying her.’

  ‘I would not go so far as to say that,’ Max said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘No, I hope you would not. I will have a draft made out to you and sent round to your address.’

  Max bowed. ‘Thank you.’

  There being nothing else to say, they returned to the ladies, to hear what they had arranged and soon after that Harry bowed his way out. Rosamund went to the door with him. ‘My lord,’ she began, ‘if my aunt’s arrangements displease you, you must say so.’

  ‘It is not I who has to be pleased, my dear,’ he said gently, ‘but you. Do as you wish. I shall fall in with your plans. And after the ceremony, we will repair to Bishop’s Court. I am sure you will like it there.’

  He bowed to her, put his hat on and went back to his carriage, musing as he went. It had been the strangest week of his life and he hoped sincerely he was not going to regret what he had done.

  As soon as he arrived home, he sent for his lawyer and arranged the money order for Sir Max and then sent a note to the London Journal, announcing his betrothal. After that he changed his suit for something a little less colourful and set off for a meeting of the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club where he was able to report he had been given a name that might lead him to a new gang of coiners. While out in his disguise, he had met a man called Mick O’Keefe passing not one, but two fake guineas. He had not apprehended him, but engaged him in conversation. Although he had not learned a great deal, he would continue to further his acquaintance and perhaps gain his trust.

  ‘By the bye,’ he said, at the end of his report, ‘you may congratulate me. I am to be married.’

  ‘You did it!’ Ash exclaimed. ‘I never thought you woul
d.’

  ‘You sly old fox!’ Jonathan said. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name is Miss Rosamund Chalmers. She has recently lost her father and is living with her aunt, Mrs Bullivant, in Chandos Street. We are to be wed next month in St George’s Church. I shall ask Mrs Bullivant to include you all in the invitations.’

  ‘How did you meet her?’ James asked. He had known Harry several years. Harry had been a protégé of his mother-in-law, the actress, Sophie Charron, in the days when the young man aspired to be an actor before he came into his inheritance. ‘You have never mentioned her before.’

  Harry shot a meaningful look at Ash before answering. ‘Our fathers were friends. I have knownher for some time, but only recently renewed the acquaintanceship.’

  Everyone congratulated him, slapping him on the back and calling for more wine to celebrate.

  It was late when the meeting broke up and he and Ash repaired to the Crown and Anchor in the Strand to dine.

  ‘Didn’t think you would do it,’ Ash said, grinning at him. ‘What made you?’

  ‘I admire the lady greatly.’

  ‘Fustian! You cannot mean it.’

  ‘Indeed I do. She has a lively mind and a delightful sense of humour. We shall deal well together, I think.’

  ‘You have never fallen in love?’

  ‘No, of course not. Neither has she, but I would not for the world have it put about that we are not sincerely attached. For the lady’s sake, you understand?’

  ‘Perfectly, my friend. The circumstances of your meeting will never pass my lips, I promise you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Lud! This will take the ton by storm, when it gets out.’ Ash was chuckling.

  ‘Which will be tomorrow when the Journal comes out.’

  They passed into the tavern and, having dined, spent the evening in a convivial game of piquet.

  Harry was not at all surprised the next morning to have his breakfast interrupted by his cousin, Francis, carrying a copy of the London Journal. He dazzled the eye with a pink silk coat with enormous silver buttons, a short waistcoat in a sickly raspberry colour embroidered all over in leaves and flowers, yellow-and-white-striped breeches with ribands at the knee and a huge bow in place of a cravat. His silly little hat topped a tall wig with three rows of buckles on each side.