To Win the Lady Read online

  Mrs Bertram made up a party to visit Ranelagh Gardens one evening which included Richard and John, Lord and Lady Hereward and their daughter, Juliette. It proved to be very enjoyable, with fireworks and dancing in the Rotunda, though it was a sad crush.

  The outing was reciprocated by her ladyship with an invitation to a play. Only too conscious of being the odd one out, Georgie would rather not have gone but her aunt insisted that she would give mortal offence if she did not go and so she gave in. The play was supposed to be a melodrama, but in Georgie’s opinion it was more like a farce and she was not surprised that the audience spent most of the time hissing and booing and laughing at the efforts of the players.

  She noticed that Felicity and John seemed to be enjoying it for their heads were together and they were smiling. As for Richard, he seemed totally bored - or perhaps it was jealousy which caused the frown? After all, he was supposed to be Felicity’s escort, not John. She leaned across and spoke to him. ‘You are looking very serious, Major. Is the entertainment not to your liking?’

  He came out of his brown study to smile at her. ‘What do you think of it?’

  ‘I find the audience far more entertaining than the play,’ she said, leaning over the box to look up at the noisy gallery. There was one couple arguing over whether they should throw fruit at the actors; he was standing up with his arm ready to fling an apple and she was trying to stop him. Others, complaining that they blocked the view of the stage, were entreating them to sit down and shut up unless they wanted to be thrown over the balcony into the pits. Fortunately they were saved by the dropping of the curtain for the intermission.

  The Major and Captain Melford went in search of a waiter to bring refreshments for everyone and while they were gone Lord Barbour came to their box to pay his respects. He bowed to the ladies and sat in Richard’s vacant seat. He was still there, still trying to engage Georgie’s attention, when Richard returned. ‘My dear Miss Paget,’ he was saying, aware that the Major could not return to his chair until he left, ‘I shall look forward with impatience to Mrs Bertram’s ball; the invitation arrived this morning. I hope you will stand up with me for at least two...’ he grinned `... perhaps three dances.’ With that he rose ponderously and took her hand which he lifted to his lips. ‘Until then, my dear Miss Paget.’

  Georgie did not like his familiar way of addressing her and was half inclined to give him a put-down for supposing that she would agree to more than the two dances which etiquette decreed were proper, but, looking over his shoulder, she saw Richard watching them. He had a look of fury, as if she had no right to speak to whom she pleased, and a little devil inside her made her smile impishly. ‘Pray, do not hurry away, my lord. The second act is not yet begun.’

  With a smile of triumph, he sat down again, much to Mrs Bertram’s delight. She called to Richard to sit between her and Felicity, which entailed a great shifting around, so that Georgie was sitting between his lordship and John, who had Juliette on his other side, and thus they settled down for the second act. It was all so contrived that it amused Georgie, who told herself she had no preference where she sat.

  But as the remainder of the play was as bad as the first she found her attention wandering to the dimness of the box behind her. She had encouraged Lord Barbour simply to score a point over Major Baverstock and she was heartily ashamed of herself. Her behaviour would embolden his lordship, who sat gloating beside her and laughing too loudly at the antics of the players on the stage, and it would certainly give the Major an aversion to the whole family. Had she spoiled Felicity’s chances? She glanced towards them. From what she could see, they were both engrossed in the drama on the stage and ignoring each other.

  Mrs Bertram noticed it too, and it was the subject of her diatribe in the coach on the way home. ‘Felicity, my child, you really must not behave so coldly towards the Major; you will not encourage him that way.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to be cold,’ she said. ‘But he frightens me. Every time he looks at me, I am struck dumb.’

  ‘You seem to have no difficulty in smiling at Captain Melford and chattering like a magpie to Juliette Hereward.’

  ‘They are more my own age.’

  ‘Fudge! You must make more of a push. Your sister had made a great many sacrifices to give you this Season and you are unlikely to get another.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt,’ Georgie put in, laying a reassuring hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Please don’t make a great thing out of that. I would not have Felicity made to feel guilty on my account. Besides, you have done most...’

  ‘Oh, give me patience!’ their aunt exclaimed as the carriage drew up at their door. ‘How either of you can expect to take when you don’t listen to a word I say, I do not know. Do you want to go home without a single offer between you?’

  ‘As for me, Aunt, I expect none,’ Georgie said, all the more determined not to put herself in the position of having to hear a proposal from Lord Barbour. ‘But Felicity is a different matter.’

  Mrs Bertram turned to her younger niece. ‘Well, child, are you going to take my advice or not?’

  ‘I’ll try, Aunt,’ Felicity said meekly, squeezing Georgie’s hand.

  The next morning the Major called to escort Felicity to Bullock’s Museum, and because their aunt had not yet left her room Georgie was once again pressed into service as chaperon. It was a duty she would willingly have laid down, not because she did not want to see the wonders on display, but because she found herself trembling at the thought of meeting Major Baverstock again. It was not fear which held her in its grip but shame that she had as good as cut him. If he was to be her brother-in-law, then for her sister’s sake the sooner she put that right the better.

  It was a pleasant morning, not too hot considering it was July, and they had decided to walk the short distance to Old Bond Street. The girls were dressed in cool muslins and carried lace-trimmed parasols and Richard was handsomely dressed for town in a double-breasted dark green tailcoat and buff pantaloons, his cravat skilfully tied and held with a diamond pin. They were three very handsome young people out on the town, though Felicity was, as usual, very quiet and Georgie’s smile so stiff she thought her face would crack. Richard seemed unaware of it as he walked between them, stopping every now and again to doff his tall hat and greet acquaintances and chatting easily to both girls.

  Georgie wondered if he had forgotten how badly she had treated him, or perhaps he had decided to ignore it for her sister’s sake. Or perhaps he’d excused her on the grounds that she knew no better. That hurt most of all. She could not say anything to him in front of her sister but she did not see how she was ever going to be able to speak to him alone in order to apologise.

  There was a crowd at the entrance to the museum for several new exhibits had lately arrived from the battlefields and Londoners, who had little idea of what a battle was really like, were agog to see torn standards and captured eagles, bloodied sabres and guns which had been at this and that siege. There were a great many soldiers begging along the lines of people waiting to go in. ‘Spare a copper for an old soldier who fought for ‘is country,’ they said, and, when they were rebuffed, muttered among themselves, using language that made the girls’ ears turn pink with embarrassment.

  Three in particular stood near the door, entreating those about to enter. They were filthy and dressed in rags; one had lost an arm and another had a blood-stained bandage round his head and covering one eye. ‘This is what we fought and died for, is it?’ one of them said, pushing against Felicity, who jumped back in alarm. ‘So the rich can gape at rubbish from a battlefield. Why don’t you put us on display, eh? We’re rubbish, ain’t that so? Never no mind it’s ‘cos of what we did you can sleep easy in yer bed o’ nights.’

  `Get away,’ Felicity cried, putting her gloved hands to her face and backing against Richard, who gently put her into Georgie’s care and turned back to the men.

  ‘What was your regiment?’ he demanded.

  ‘Ninth, sir,’ t
heir spokesmen said, coming stiffly to attention, for he recognised an officer, even though he was in civilian dress, and old habits died hard.

  ‘East Norfolks,’ Richard said. ‘Why haven’t you returned home?’

  ‘Nothing to go home for,’ their leader said. ‘We’d only be more mouths to feed. We’ll go when we’ve got something worthwhile to take with us.’

  Richard felt in his tail pocket for his purse and extracted a couple of guineas and some small change. ‘Here, take this but use it to some purpose. If you won’t go home, then go to Dullingham House in Cambridgeshire. Say Major Baverstock sent you and you’ll be given work.’

  ‘Thank you, Major. You’re a real gent. We’ll not forget you.’ They touched their foreheads and backed away, murmuring apologies to the girls as they went.

  ‘Do you think they will really go to Dullingham House?’ Georgie asked.

  He smiled wryly. ‘They’ll probably go to the nearest tavern, but who can blame them? I certainly would not. Now come, let us see what this estimable establishment has to show us.’

  With the Major to tell them about the exhibits they learned more than the general crowd who simply walked round gaping at blood-stained uniforms and gory paintings of men and horses. Long before they had seen everything Felicity complained that she felt faint and Georgie herself was glad enough to escape into the fresh air. ‘I didn’t know it was going to be like that,’ Felicity said, holding on to Richard’s arm with both hands. ‘I am sure it must be exaggerated.’

  ‘Very likely,’ he said laconically, but Georgie caught the look in his eye and knew he was only trying to comfort her sister and that, if anything, what they had seen had been watered down. ‘Stay here with Miss Paget and I’ll find a carriage to take you home.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Felicity said when he had gone. ‘Now he thinks me exceedingly foolish.’

  ‘I am sure he does not,’ Georgie assured her, watching his tall figure stride into the road to hail a passing hackney. ‘He will appreciate your sensibility.’

  ‘But you did not faint, did you?’

  She smiled. ‘No, but I am tough as old boots, aren’t I?’ She was tough; she had to be. She had to be strong enough to run a business and ignore criticism; she had to keep up the pretence of not caring about anything but her horses. For her sister’s sake, she had to steel her heart against falling in love. She might even have to accept the odious Lord Barbour. But why was it so hard?

  Richard returned with a cab and accompanied them back to Holles Street and still Georgie had not been able to speak to him alone. Perhaps it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, she thought. To apologise might be to draw attention to frailties in her she would rather keep hidden, especially if he had dismissed the incident as unimportant. And it was unimportant, for what was he to her or she to him? It was Felicity who mattered and she seemed to have overcome her shyness of the Major and was chatting away quite easily, saying how much she was looking forward to Lady Hereward’s picnic and asking him if he would be there, to which he gallantly replied that he would not miss it for worlds.

  The picnic was to be held at Richmond, a pleasant village set beside the Thames, where Lord and Lady Hereward had a villa and where they had removed to escape the heat of town, now that the Season was all but at an end. A few hardy souls remained to continue the victory celebrations which had been going on all summer and extended the Season, but even these were beginning to pall and many of the ton had taken themselves off to Paris, now in allied hands and once more the place to see and be seen. The picnic would be a little compensation for those left behind.

  The day chosen for it was a warm one, the sky a clear forget-me-not blue; larks soared above the meadows on either side of the road as they left the town and passed through Hammersmith and Mortlake and down Richmond Hill to the park beside the river, which reflected the azure sky. Over the river hovered damselflies and kingfishers, while moorhens and ducks shared the water with graceful swans. Lady Hereward had selected a spot on the grassy bank where chestnut trees cast their shade and here servants had spread out a cloth and were busy covering it with delectable things to eat and drink.

  Georgie was glad she had chosen a cool primrose muslin and a large-brimmed cottager hat to keep the sun off her face and neck, but even then she was hot and sticky and felt sorry for the men, dressed as they were in coats and waistcoats, not to mention starched muslin cravats. But by the time the meal had ended many of them had discarded their coats and loosened their neckwear and were lounging easily, chatting animatedly about the news and gossip of the day.

  Some of the more energetic began a game of cricket; others strolled off with young ladies, their chaperons a few paces behind. Felicity had gone off somewhere arm in arm with Juliette but as Mrs Bertram was dozing in a chair brought from the carriage Georgie assumed it was not necessary to accompany her sister and contented herself with sitting on a rug with her back to a tree, watching the antics of the cricketers.

  Major Baverstock was a skilled batsman and managed twenty runs over the rough grass before being bowled out and joining John on the grass not far from where Georgie sat. She found herself observing him from beneath the brim of her hat as he sprawled on the grass talking to his friend. He reminded her of a leopard, muscular and sleek, with lazy dark eyes which could change in an instant to watchfulness. He was powerful and yet relaxed, his teeth were strong and white and his chin firm, but, unlike a leopard, he suddenly broke into unexpected laughter and his eyes sparkled as he responded to something John had said. They scrambled to their feet and wandered off together.

  Gone to find Felicity and Juliette, she thought, suppressing the terrible pang of envy which suddenly beset her. If only there were two such men! But if there were, who was to say one would look twice at her? She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. They were brown and workworn. She hid them in the folds of her gown and shut her eyes. For a few moments she allowed herself to dream, but the dream was broken when she heard a slight sound as someone sat down beside her. Her eyes flew open and she found Richard not a yard away.

  ‘Major Baverstock!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I startled you.’

  ‘No, not at all. I thought... I thought you had gone to find Felicity.’

  He smiled. ‘Then I would have expected you to leap to her side as a good chaperon should and that might have spoiled her walk.’

  She returned his smile, though her hands, still in the folds of her skirt, were shaking and her heart was beating uncomfortably in her throat. ‘I am not very good at it, am I, Major?’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘Being a chaperon.’

  ‘I do not see why you should be one at all. You are far too young.’

  ‘Sir, you are presumptuous,’ she said, proving that even with a tanned complexion it was possible to blush scarlet.

  ‘Not at all. I was simply stating the obvious. Why do you pretend?’

  ‘Pretend, Major?’

  ‘Yes, pretend to be staid and very proper. You are sitting there as stiff as a board and wishing you were anywhere but here. It is hardly flattering.’

  ‘You would have me flatter you with empty phrases?’

  ‘Not at all. But you forget, I have seen you as you really are, free as a bird, flying over a hedge on that great stallion. This...’ he spread his hands to encompass their surroundings ‘...this is not the real you.’

  ‘Do you have to remind me of something I would rather forget? I have apologised for startling you; is it not enough? Besides, it was part of my daily work to exercise Warrior.’

  ‘There you go again, thinking of work and duty.’

  ‘I have little time for frivolity...’

  ‘Then you should make time. It would not hurt you to forget Rowan Park and enjoy yourself for once, even to flirt a little.’

  ‘Flirting is a game I do not care to play, Major. I am persuaded it might easily end in tears.’

  ‘Whose tears?’ he asked softly, bending towards her. Sh
e thought for one breathtaking moment that he was going to kiss her and tensed herself ready to rebuff him, but he did nothing except look deeply into her eyes. ‘Yours?’

  ‘No,’ she hastened to tell him. ‘I was speaking generally.’

  ‘Then let us speak of the particular. If you are not afraid of your own tears, could it be your sister’s?’

  She wondered how he could be so far-seeing. Was she so transparent that anyone could see into her head and read her thoughts? ‘Felicity is all the close family I have,’ she said slowly. ‘Her happiness is important to me. But I cannot see what that has to do with...’

  ‘With me?’

  She hesitated, then said, ‘No, I was going to say with me enjoying myself...’

  ‘Don’t you? I do. You would suppress your own feminine instincts, give up your own chance of happiness in order to see your sister safely settled with a good dowry, which is something Sir Henry should have done for you both, instead of...’

  ‘Sir, you will oblige me by not referring to my father in those terms. He was a good man; he did his best for both of us. After Mama died it was not easy for him. He loved her so much...’ She stopped suddenly. Why was she telling him this? Why had she not ended the conversation minutes ago? ‘You have no right...’

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said softly, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm. ‘I have only added to your problems, when truly all I wanted was to alleviate them. You looked so sad...’

  ‘I am not sad, Major Baverstock. Because I do not prattle all the time it does not mean I am unhappy.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear it. But will you promise me something?’

  ‘It depends,’ she said guardedly.

  ‘Promise me that you will do nothing rash in the next few days.’