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Matthew Walsingham’s valet and groom must be equally dedicated to his service, but Stone Gables was too close for safety.

Without enthusiasm she climbed out of bed, washed in the now tepid water, and put on a gown of the thinnest India muslin. It was going to be a long, hot day. Her seamstress was expecting her for a fitting, and then she was to meet Lucy to go shopping. Somehow the elegant shops of Milsom Street failed to attract her this morning.

The shopping expedition was not a success. Lucy wilted in the heat reflecting from the pale Bath-stone walls and pavement. They took refuge in a circulating library, only to be driven thence by the arrival of the rakish Lord Alsop. Jessica summoned a chair for Lucy and walked beside it the short but uphill distance to the Circus. When they reached the Pearsons’ house, she was very glad to accept a glass of lemonade and to renew her acquaintance with Mr. Pearson.

“I’m that grateful to you, ma’am, for taking our Lucy under your wing,” he said. “I was in a fair way to leaving Bath in despair before, for she wasn’t enjoying herself though she tried to gammon her old pa she was.” He shook his head fondly at his daughter.

Jessica liked the bluff, shrewd man who so obviously adored his only child: Nonetheless, as she was driven home in the blue and gold barouche, she hoped Nathan would be well and truly caught before he discovered that his beloved’s papa was a Cit.

Rumour was a chancy thing. Word of Mr. Pearson’s occupation had not yet reached her brother’s ears, yet Matthew Walsingham had been unmasked by a chance meeting in a tavern.

Since she had lost her mother at the age of twelve, Jessica had always turned to Tibby when troubled. Arriving at home, she was glad to find her former governess alone in the back parlour, perusing Caesar’s
Commentarii de bello Gallico
(the section on the invasion of Britain), which she regarded as light reading.

“‘Exigua parte aestatis reliqua,’“
Jessica quoted. “That’s the only bit I remember, I fear.”

“Alas, your father did not approve of a female studying Latin.” Miss Tibbett lowered her book and peered over her spectacles. “Something is troubling you, my dear.” She pushed her spectacles up to a precarious perch on her head as Jessica sank into a chair.

“It’s so very dreadful, Tibby, and I don’t know what to believe.” She explained what Sukey had told her.

“What is so very dreadful?” Miss Tibbett enquired with interest.

“I
like
him. I trusted him.”

“If it is true, you are in no position to throw stones,” Miss Tibbett pointed out. “But it seems unlikely that he should be living in Lord Stone’s house if they have quarrelled irrevocably.”

“That’s a good point.” Jessica brightened, then frowned. “On the other hand, there is the business of his cough. He told me he was in Bath to take the waters for his cough, yet he only coughed three or four times in my presence, and I only saw him drink the waters once. I believe he invented the whole as an explanation for his presence here, especially as he now claims to be cured yet he does not leave Bath.”

“I do not find that hard to understand.”

“You mean he stays because he likes me?” she said wistfully. “I like him, too, and that is the trouble. If he is not wealthy after all, how can I marry him?”

“Has he asked you?” Tibby looked dismayed.

“No, and if he did I should have to tell him that I am not wealthy, either, and he would cry off.”

“Not necessarily, not if Tad’s tale is erroneous, which it may well be. I think you are making mountains out of molehills, my dear. You are not committed to Mr. Walsingham, and much as you like him you must not confine your efforts to him. There are, after all, other...”

“... Fish in the sea. Yes, of course you are right. After all, I’ve only known the wretched man a fortnight, so why should I care?” Jessica heaved a deep sigh. “There may be others whom I could like just as well— since I met him I have not even looked about me. I shall begin tonight, at the Lower Rooms.”

Miss Tibbett nodded her approval and reached up for her spectacles to resume her reading. Jessica spent the next five minutes disentangling the wretched things from her hair.

Jessica had no intention of attracting unwelcome comment by so drastic an act as refusing to stand up with Matthew Walsingham at that evening’s assembly. Doing her best to treat him as a mere acquaintance, though a pleasant one, she realized to what extent she had fallen into intimacy with him. She was glad that the country dance allowed little opportunity for conversation.

Nonetheless, he seemed to notice an alteration in her demeanour, for he gave her a puzzled look as he escorted her to where Miss Tibbett sat with Mrs. Barlow. Then his face cleared.

“It is wretchedly hot in here this evening,” he said cheerfully, taking her fan from her as she sat down and wielding it with such vigour that her ringlets bobbed. “Perhaps you would like to take a turn out in the fresh air, Miss Franklin?”

“Oh no, I think...” Uncertain what to say, Jessica glanced towards the nearby French windows that stood open to the narrow terrace running the length of the ballroom. Not even the fussiest of dowagers could complain of a draught tonight. What she saw made her spring to her feet. “Lucy... Lord Alsop... Oh, yes, let us go at once. Where is Nathan?”

The baron, gripping Lucy’s upper arm, was urging her towards the open doors. As Jessica approached, Matthew close behind her, the girl glanced back with a desperate look. They reached her just as Nathan appeared on Lord Alsop’s other side, his face dark with fury.

“My lord,” said Jessica quickly with an artificial titter, “I do believe you have quite forgot you asked me for the next dance.”

Before the nonplussed gentleman could respond, or her brother could explode, Matthew put in, “And I fear, Miss Pearson, that you have done the same for me. What is worse, by the way Sir Nathan is glaring at me I suspect you promised to stand up with him, too. Pistols at dawn, Nathan?”

Lord Alsop blenched and swallowed his protest. Jessica took him by the sleeve and practically dragged him to join a set that was just forming. She looked back to see Lucy gazing up with worship in her eyes at Nathan, who grinned at Matthew, offered the girl his arm, and proceeded with her towards the terrace.

“The heat made Miss Pearson feel faint,” said the baron smoothly. “A delicate girl—it seemed best to take her into the fresh air without waiting for her next partner to find us. How delightfully you look this evening, Miss Franklin. Quite the most elegant young lady in the room.” His cold eyes assessed her aquamarines.

Jessica, who was rather pleased with the way the new green velvet ribbons had refurbished her sprig muslin, fluttered her eyelashes after the style of Maria Crane and murmured, “You are too kind, my lord. It is gratifying to have as my partner the most stylish gentleman present.”

The lines of dissipation on his face settled into an expression of self-satisfaction. “Nugee makes my coats,” he told her complacently. “There are those who swear by Weston, but to my way of thinking his designs lack that little something.”

The little something, Jessica assumed, comprised the wasp waist, shoulder pads, wide lapels and huge gilt buttons. Nor did the fact that the coat was made of violet satin reconcile her to it. She wondered whether Lucy’s colourful gowns had originally drawn the fop to her—but no, undoubtedly the attraction had been her jewellery.

She realized his lordship’s eyes had moved down from her necklace to her bosom, and they were no longer cold or smug. To her relief, at that moment Matthew joined the set with Kitty Barlow and the music started.

At the end of the dance, Jessica was forced to promise Lord Alsop another, later in the evening. She declined a stroll on the terrace, however, grateful for Nathan’s prompt appearance at her side.

“My turn, Jess,” he said.

She looked around in dismay. “Where is Lucy? Has Mr. Walsingham gone to her?”

“I persuaded Mrs. Woodcock to take her home. Your new admirer was right about one thing, the heat really made her feel unwell.”

“New admirer! Do not say so!”

He laughed, but said seriously, “I shall have to keep an eye on the man. You can take care of yourself, I know, but Lucy is such a timid little innocent.”

Though she knew he meant to compliment her, Jessica was a little put out by her brother’s comment. If timid innocence elicited such devotion, perhaps her own independent spirit was less desirable than she had thought.

Following Tibby’s advice, she avoided dancing again with Matthew. However, the gentlemen who stood up with her were known to have not a feather to fly with or at best, like Mr. Barlow and Lord Peter Glossop, to be possessed of a competence insufficient to purchase an expensive lease as a bride-gift. Matthew, meanwhile, took to the floor with Maria Crane and Annabel Forrester in turn, neither of whom, Jessica guessed, had heard the rumour of his insolvency.

In Lucy’s absence, Nathan was also pursued by young ladies of slender means. The whole of Bath Society seemed convinced that the Franklins were decidedly plump in the pocket.

That was just what Jessica had wanted, of course. Somehow it had not dawned on her that as well as attracting eligible gentlemen, her supposed wealth would bring a swarm of acknowledged fortune hunters. In a mood of dissatisfaction, she moved on Lord Peter’s arm towards the chaperons.

From the corner of her eye she saw Lord Alsop approaching and realised it was time for her second dance with him.

“Aunt Tibby, I’m afraid this shocking heat does not agree with you,” she said swiftly.

“I do have a bit of a headache,” that lady admitted. No one could accuse her of being slow on the uptake.

“We must take you home at once, dear Aunt. Here is Nathan, he shall call for a chair.”

Mrs. Barlow intervened. “There’s no need for you to miss the dancing. Miss Franklin. I’ll be happy to chaperon you and I daresay Sir Nathan won’t mind coming back for you.”

“I fear Jessica’s tisane is the
only
remedy for one of my headaches.” Miss Tibbett pronounced this inspired invention in failing tones.

Lord Alsop was forced to accept Jessica’s excuses with a good grace. Five minutes later she and Miss Tibbett were ensconced in chairs with Nathan walking homeward between them.

“My apologies for tearing you away early, Aunt Tibby,” Jessica teased, “but I could not face dancing with that man again.”

“I was quite ready to leave. Mrs. Barlow is a sadly ignorant woman, though good-hearted.”

“Sufficiently wide-awake to see through your play-acting,” Nathan told her, “but kind enough, I trust, not to give you away even though I was engaged to Kitty Barlow for the last dance.” He fell silent then, and did not speak again until the front door of Number 15 closed behind them. “It’s this damnable plot of yours, Jess,” he burst out then. “All these girls are setting their caps at me because they think I’m rich.”

“I’m sorry,” she said guiltily, “but you cannot very well go around denying it.”

“I know. A proper nodcock I should look, and I daresay no one would believe me anyway.”

“Lucy doesn’t care if you’re rich,” Jessica pointed out.

“No, but that’s equally damnable, because when she finds out I’m not she’ll think I only care because she is!”

In an atmosphere of gloom they all went up to bed.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Matthew gazed out gloomily at the grey drizzle. It had been raining now for four days, postponing the boating expedition on the canal and curtailing all other social activities. As a near neighbour and a friend of Nathan’s, he had taken the liberty of calling at Number 15 more often than might otherwise have been proper, only to be made aware of a definite reserve in Jessica’s manner. He was at a loss to account for it, unless her aunt had warned her that she was being too familiar.

It was hard to believe he had known her less than a month. Already his servants had reported gossip linking them as a couple, which might have offended Jessica, he realized, if word had reached her ears.

The newspaper he had been reading rustled as he shifted restlessly. The constant dampness made his leg ache. Perhaps exercise might help, he thought, and he was rising from his chair by the fire when his valet came in.

“There’s a messenger from Lord Ilfracombe, sir. His lordship’s just arrived at the York House Hotel and hopes you will dine with him tonight.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in half an hour.” Matthew cheered up at once. It was only six o’clock, but the earl, though a gentleman of conventional habits, was a close enough friend not to mind if he arrived early. He changed quickly and strode out into the rain, scarcely noticing it now in his eagerness to discover Ilfracombe’s opinion of his plans for the Leicestershire hunting box.

Though travelling alone, the earl had taken a spacious suite of rooms on the first floor of the hotel. In this case “alone” meant accompanied only by his secretary, valet, footman, groom, and coachman, as befitted a member of the government and a wealthy landowner. Matthew was admitted by the footman and found his lordship already contemplating the drawings, spread on the table in the dining parlour. He looked round with a smile.

“I like it, Matthew.”

“Do you, sir?” Matthew grinned, more pleased than he could say. “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

“You have caught the feeling of informality I desire, unlike the other fellow who showed me his design. This sketch of the front expresses it best.” He indicated Jessica’s drawing. “I’m also particularly impressed by your heating system. There are one or two minor changes I want to discuss. Have a glass of madeira, and let us talk about it.”

The secretary, a discreet young man, poured a glass of wine and gave it to Matthew, then sat down at the table to take notes. By the time the papers had to be cleared to allow the hotel waiters to set the table for dinner, they had settled on the alterations to be made.

“I’ll have everything ready for you in a day or two,” Matthew promised the earl, rolling up the plans. “Are you staying in Bath?”

“Yes, I shall stay a few days. I’m not in any great hurry and I have not visited the place in twenty years.” His lordship looked a trifle self-conscious, Matthew noted with surprise, but he forgot the matter as they sat down to dinner.

BOOK: Carola Dunn
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