To Win the Lady (13 page)

‘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. She 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.’

‘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.’