The Rake's Rebellious Lady (5 page)

‘Just so,’ Freddie said, releasing her. He felt the reserve in her and mentally drew back. If he were not careful he would find himself drawn into a situation that could lead to only one end. He liked her enough to enjoy a light flirtation—but marriage? No, he had no thought of it! He reverted to the mocking stance that was his habitual manner. ‘You intrigue me, for I do not believe that you can be all that you seem, Miss Holbrook. You have made an impression. I dare say you could marry one of several gentlemen, all of them titled and wealthy.’

‘Do you think so, sir?’ Caroline lifted her head. ‘Perhaps you imagine that I wish to marry for fortune and position? If
that is so, I think you may regard yourself as safe. I believe a marquis is as high as you can aspire in the future? I have only to encourage it and I may become a duchess one day…’ She walked off, her back straight, leaving Freddie to watch her in wry amusement.

The devil of it was that she was probably right! He was annoyed that she intrigued him, holding his thoughts more often than he liked. What was it about her that had caught his attention? She was a beauty, but there were other ladies as lovely who aroused no more than a flicker of interest in his mind. It seemed that the only way he might free himself was to develop the acquaintance, for he was sure to find her out in the end. She could surely not be as innocent and pure of mind as she seemed.

Caroline returned to the ballroom. Had she been a cat, her tail would have been twitching, for he had managed to get beneath her skin. Sir Frederick Rathbone was a sight too sure of himself for her liking. He had deserved a set down, and that was the only reason she had spoken in a way that might be seen as bragging. It was true that a young gentleman, who was the second in line for a dukedom, had paid her considerable attention, but she would not normally have dreamed of drawing anyone’s notice to it—and she had no intention of encouraging Sir Frederick to make an offer. Indeed, she had done her best to discourage it.

She wished that she had thought of some other way to put Sir Frederick down, for she did not wish him or anyone else to suppose that she was hanging out for a title. It was the furthest thing from her mind. At the moment she did not precisely know what she wanted from a husband. He must be an educated gentleman, able to discuss poetry and literature and
to appreciate music and art. She thought that he must also have a sense of humour, for she did not think she could bear to be married to someone who was serious all the time.

For a moment her thoughts turned to Sir Frederick. She smiled at the thought of him giving into the seduction of a helpless puppy, allowing it to inveigle its way in to his good graces. Perhaps he was not as reserved or haughty as he sometimes seemed…and perhaps she did quite like him after all. At the back of her mind the thought hovered that, perhaps if her aunt had not been so very keen to see her marry Sir Frederick, she might have liked him quite a lot…

* * *

The next morning, Caroline had almost forgotten the little incident of the previous evening. She had decided to go to the lending library to take out a book one of her new friends had told her about. She went early, escaping without her maid, though she knew that her aunt would not approve of such behaviour. However, since the library was only a few streets away, she thought that it was quite safe for she would be at home again before her aunt was aware that she had been out.

It was as she emerged from the library, her parcel of books held by the string the assistant had obligingly tied for her, that she almost bumped into the man she had been thinking about despite her struggle to put him from her mind. He lifted his hat to her, and she could not but admire the way he looked in his dark green riding coat and pale breeches. It would seem that he had been riding earlier, for he still carried his whip. It was impossible to avoid him, so she smiled and wished him good morning.

‘You are about early, Miss Holbrook.’ He glanced at her books, a flicker of amusement on his lips as he saw that she
had chosen not only a book of poetry, but also a rather lurid gothic novel that was just then causing quite a stir amongst the younger ladies. ‘Ah, I see you have fallen victim to a great piece of nonsense, mistakenly described as excellent stuff.’

‘You do not like Ann Radcliffe’s work, sir?’

‘I do not find it particularly entertaining,’ Freddie said, ‘though I can see it might appeal to the female mind.’

Caroline’s eyes glinted with anger. ‘I think you are patronising, sir. The female mind is equally capable of understanding more worthy works of literature, but a novel of this kind is meant for entertainment.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Freddie said, amused by how easily she had risen to his bait. ‘Personally, I prefer the Marquis de Sade—but that would not be fit reading for a young lady, of course. If you wish to read gothic novels, may I recommend Gregory Lewis’s novel
The Monk
to you?’

‘Had I not already read it, I would have been pleased for you to do so,’ Caroline said, lifting her chin. She suspected that he was teasing her and it brought a hint of defiance to her lovely face. ‘I thought it a little shocking, but it was very well written, did you not think so?’

‘Indeed, yes,’ Freddie said and laughed softly, for he had read the hint of challenge in her eyes. She looked just like an angry kitten! ‘Have you not guessed yet that I am teasing you, Miss Holbrook? It is a fault in me. My godmother often takes me to task for levity. She says that, if I were ever to conquer the need for such foolishness, I might become a better man.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Caroline said, sheathing her claws. ‘Then may I take it that you have read Mrs Radcliffe’s book
The
Mysteries of Udolpho
?’

‘Indeed, I have, some years ago,’ he agreed. ‘I found it
the best of her work—though I dare say others are tolerably readable.’

‘I have not yet found it on the shelves,’ Caroline said. ‘It seems to be popular still, even though it was published some years ago.’

‘Ah, then perhaps I may be of service to you,’ Freddie said. ‘I believe I still own a copy. Allow me to lend it to you, Miss Holbrook…’

Freddie became aware that she was not attending. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on something behind him, and he turned, taking in the incident instantly, for he saw the young boy being attacked by a group of older boys. Seeing that Caroline was about to plunge recklessly into the path of an oncoming dray wagon, he took hold of her arm, restraining her so violently that she yelped with pain.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘but I beg you, leave this to me. Stay here!’

The instruction was given in such a severe tone that Caroline remained where she was while he crossed the road, dodging between the traffic. She watched as he spoke to the lads, sending them off about their business, and noted that he slipped a coin into the hand of the one that had been attacked.

‘What happened?’ she asked as he returned to her. ‘Was he much hurt?’

‘It was merely a spat amongst brothers,’ Freddie told her. ‘The boy had lost some money one of the others had given him to buy their supper—nothing for you to be distressed about, Miss Holbrook.’

‘You gave him money,’ she said. ‘That was kind of you, sir.’

‘It was an easy task.’ He gave her a severe look. ‘May I
recommend you to be less impulsive, Miss Holbrook. You could easily have been injured just now.’

‘You are good to be concerned for me,’ she replied with a toss of her head. ‘I assure you that I was aware of the wagon and felt that I was quite able to avoid it. I am not one of those fragile young ladies who faint at the slightest thing, sir.’

‘Indeed you are not, but your behaviour is sometimes reckless in the extreme,’ he said severely. ‘If I may say so, Miss Holbrook, you are far too pretty to end your life crushed beneath the wheels of a heavy-goods wagon. But before you grow cross with me again, I believe I had just asked if I might lend you a book you wished to read?’

Caroline hesitated, for he had seemed critical, but her desire to read the novel overcame her pique. ‘Thank you, I should like to read it for it has been recommended to me by a friend.’

‘I shall send it round to your aunt’s house,’ Freddie said. ‘In the meantime, may I walk you home?’

‘You are kind, sir,’ Caroline replied, ‘but I am but two streets from my home and I dare say you have other things to occupy you.’

‘Then perhaps we shall meet again soon.’

Freddie tipped his hat to her and set off down the street.

* * *

Caroline successfully managed to slip back into the house without being discovered by her aunt, though Mrs Holbrook had been to her room to inquire for her and was a little upset that she had been out alone that morning, even though it was merely to the lending library.

‘It will not do for you to visit these places alone in town, my dear,’ she scolded her daughter, though without malice.
‘I am not sure it is safe, for who can tell what might happen to you, dearest? You might be snatched from the street and then I should never see you again.’

‘Oh, Mama!’ Caroline laughed. ‘I do assure you that I was quite safe, and the only person I met was Sir Frederick, who had been out riding.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose it was perfectly respectable,’ her mother said. ‘But I know that your aunt would not approve, my dear.’

‘Aunt Louisa does not approve of anything I do.’

‘Caroline!’ Marianne reproved her daughter with a shake of her head, and then sighed. ‘But do you know, I do not believe Louisa approves of much I do either.’

‘Oh, Mama!’ Caroline said and went into a fit of giggles for she had never expected to hear her mother say such a thing. ‘Do be careful or she will give us both the most frightful scold.’

‘I dare say she may,’ Marianne said. ‘Do you know, I think I shall accompany you this afternoon. You are going to visit some friends, I believe?’

‘Yes, Mama. Mr Bellingham has asked me to take tea with his sister, Mrs Fairchild, and her daughter, Julia, and I have agreed. If you come with me, Aunt Louisa need not, and I know she had another appointment for she spoke of my going with just my maid.’

‘If I come with you, there will be no need for a maid to accompany us,’ Marianne said. ‘Now, my dearest. The reason I came to look for you was that I have received some silk I ordered from the merchant a few days ago, and the seamstress is coming later this morning to discuss styles and fashions. Do come and look at the fashion plates she left for me to peruse. I need your advice.’

Caroline followed her mother obediently to her bedchamber, where various bales of silk were spread out on the bed. She was delighted to find that her mother had purchased some colours as well as grey, and there was not even a black ribbon to be seen.

During the next hour before the seamstress arrived, they had a pleasurable time discussing the styles that would most suit Marianne, and the colours she ought to choose for each ensemble.

Caroline left her mother when the seamstress arrived, retiring to one of the small parlours overlooking the garden at the back of the house to read her book. She returned to her bedchamber before the bell sounded for nuncheon and she was joined by her aunt and her mother, to partake of a cold meal.

After they had eaten, Caroline went up to change into an afternoon gown of pale green. She put on a bonnet tied with matching ribbons and a pelisse of creamy white, adding a pair of white gloves and a green reticule. She had hardly reached the bottom of the stairs when Mrs Holbrook joined her and they went out to the carriage.

‘Well, this is nice, my dear, just the two of us,’ Marianne said. ‘Perhaps we should do this more often.’

Caroline forbore to answer that they might do it as often as she chose. It was nice to see her mother looking better and to know that she seemed to have begun to throw off her grief at last.

* * *

Mrs Fairchild welcomed them to her At Home, and invited Mrs Holbrook to sit opposite her, while Caroline shared a small sofa with Julia. There were only three other guests: Mr Bellingham, Mr Milbank, a gentleman of mature years, and
also a gentleman Caroline had not particularly noticed before this day. She was introduced to him as Mr Farringdon, a man of some thirty-odd years, attractive but not as gentlemanly in his manners as Mr Bellingham in Caroline’s opinion. He seemed to her to be ill at ease, and she disliked the way he spoke to her, as though trying to claim an intimacy that did not exist.

When Julia got up to help her mother by serving tea and cakes, Mr Farringdon came to sit beside Caroline. He began by being very complimentary to her, remarking on her dress and asking if she was enjoying her stay in town. Caroline replied politely, but did not smile or allow her tongue to run away with her as she so often did. She was glad when Julia looked at him expectantly, and he was obliged to relinquish his place to her. He took his leave soon after, and Caroline was pleased that he had gone. The tea party now became more intimate, and she was entertained by Mr Bellingham, who was relating a saucy tale that was going the rounds of London’s drawing rooms.

‘Well, you can imagine what Prinny made of that,’ George said. ‘He asked the lady to remove herself if she could not control her excess wind and she went off with her cheeks the colour of puce.’

‘Oh, how embarrassing for her,’ Caroline said. ‘We should not laugh, for it must have been awful for her.’

‘Think of poor Prinny. He was seated next to her, you know. I think it must have been just a little unpleasant for him.’

‘Oh, my dear,’ Mrs Fairchild said. ‘I am not sure you should repeat that tale in mixed company. You may have offended Mrs Holbrook.’

‘Not offended,’ Marianne said. ‘Surprised might be a better word—for I had not thought the Regent would mind his words to that extent…’

Silence greeted her sally, and then they all laughed. It was unlike Marianne to make a jest, but she had certainly attempted it and was given generous approval for her efforts.

‘There, you see, it was quite acceptable,’ George said and turned his attention to his niece. ‘I am glad that you did not encourage Farringdon, Julia. I have every reason to believe that he is hanging out for a rich wife. From what I hear, he is all but done up.’