CHAPTER EIGHT
Elizabeth tried to think of anything she might have done to attract attention, and drew a blank.
Her next thought was that her aunt had quietly encouraged a rumour that had inflated the state of her finances, in an effort to provide her with suitors.
This Lady Chalford vehemently denied, aggrieved that her niece could have thought, even for a moment, that she would have stooped to such a deceitful course.
Though Elizabeth apologised most profusely, Lady Chalford was left feeling both hurt at the false accusation, and also as perplexed as her niece. In desperation, she applied to her lord for advice.
‘It is most peculiar. Elizabeth is a pretty girl still, but not … forthcoming. I never expected more than a handful of gentlemen of taste to show an interest in her, but the last ten days or so she has been courted as if one of the hits of the Season. She is pestered, and I mean the word, by gentlemen, not all blatant fortune hunters, though most interested in a wife with money. This morning she has given in and let Lord Collingbourne drive her out in his phaeton, and she is engaged to ride out with the Misses Overton, whom she scarcely knows, and at the pressing of their brother. What on earth is going on?’
Lord Chalford could give no satisfactory answer, but promised to see what he could find out.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth, in a cream gown and with a very fetching parasol of Brussels lace, was sitting beside Lord Collingbourne, and bitterly regretting her submission to his entreaties.
On horseback, he had seemed competent enough, but it did not require Elizabeth to be knowledgeable about driving to tell that as a whip he bordered on the downright dangerous.
On several occasions she actually shut her eyes 108and awaited the splintering sound of wheel against wheel as they passed another vehicle at a reckless pace for the width of the carriageway, and since he had daringly decided to drive in tandem she was given full opportunity to observe just how not to point one’s leader.
It was just after the latest close encounter, whilst she was still quite pale, that Sir Lucius Radstock drew alongside them on his big bay. He raised his hat and bowed to Miss Ashling, with a look in his eye that showed remarkable understanding of the situation.
‘Good morning, Miss Ashling, Collingbourne. I see, Miss Ashling, that you have taken your life in your hands, and let Collingbourne drive you. Have you offered up prayers in advance?’
There was no possible polite response that Elizabeth could make, but Lord Collingbourne rendered reply unnecessary.
‘And you call yourself my friend, Lucius. Miss Ashling is perfectly safe with me, perfectly. I would not risk so fair a passenger.’
‘Not intentionally, no,’ Sir Lucius replied with a slow smile, and a laugh.
‘There, Miss Ashling. You see how he laughs. He is totally heartless. It is all a ploy to destroy my good name with you.’
Elizabeth had indeed seen how he laughed. The mockery in the eyes was still there, but there was also a very genuine twinkle of amusement that was hard to resist. Her animosity towards him was briefly forgotten.
‘Sir Lucius,’ she said carefully, but with an answering gleam, ‘you may be sure that my affairs are all in order. However, Lord Collingbourne has not yet given me reason 109to think I may not return to Mount Street in good health.’
‘Then you do not drive, Miss Ashling.’
‘No. I regret that I do not.’ She preserved her countenance with difficulty as Lord Collingbourne spluttered. ‘However, Lord Easby has offered to teach me, and I believe he is something of a whip.’
‘He certainly dresses like one,’ responded Sir Lucius, the laugh replaced by a frosty, clipped tone, ‘but I have yet to hear his abilities vaunted by any but himself.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth could not prevent herself sounding disappointed. ‘How vexatious. I had so hoped to learn from someone who could teach me good habits.’ She frowned at Sir Lucius. ‘You are not roasting me, are you, sir?’
‘Sir Lucius would never roast you on anything to do with horses, ma’am, I promise you,’ declared Lord Collingbourne, with conviction.
‘Are you a notable whip, Sir Lucius?’ Elizabeth ignored the interjection, and gazed at Sir Lucius challengingly, as her disappointment turned to resentment against the bringer of bad news. She hoped she would put him out of countenance. She failed.
‘I am not a member of the Four Horse Club, for I find it pretentious,’ he answered calmly, ‘and I do not claim to be the best whip, but I can feather a corner easily enough, and, unlike Collingbourne, will not threaten to spill you into a ditch.’ Sir Lucius paused for a moment.
Easby had an unpleasant reputation with women, and it was just possible that Miss Ashling was in ignorance if it.
‘Lord Easby can be very … persuasive, but I would not trust any sister of mine in his company.’
110Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. In fact, she had already had to listen to an agitated warning about the Earl of Easby from her aunt, whom, she admitted, had the right to do so, even if she thought in this case it was unnecessary.
Lord Easby showed a refreshing degree of disinterest, even sympathised at her being hounded.
Sir Lucius Radstock had no such right, yet she thought he was trying to warn her off.
‘Are we still just talking about driving, Sir Lucius?’ she enquired.
‘No, Miss Ashling.’ If she wanted the word with no bark on it, he would give it to her.
‘Then I thank you for your advice, sir, but would recommend that you keep it for your sisters.’ There was an edge to her voice.
‘I have no sisters, ma’am.’ He frowned. He had meant well, and had not expected such a rebuff.
Yet again, her swift comprehension had brought them to friendly understanding and easy interchange, and then, suddenly, she had become edgy and antagonistic.
‘But I shall, of course, refrain in the future from giving you “advice” upon any topic. Your servant, Miss Ashling.’ The tone was curt, but he managed a wry smile at his friend.
‘No doubt I shall see you at the club, Collingbourne, if you make it back to the stables in one piece.’
Lord Collingbourne, an embarrassed and not entirely comprehending spectator to this exchange, merely nodded and mumbled, and Sir Lucius cantered away. For several minutes Elizabeth fumed silently. Then Lord Collingbourne cleared his throat.
‘Good friend, Lucius. Can be a bit forthright. You should 111have heard what he had to say about a hunter I had off … Actually, not the sort of thing for a young lady’s ears … I will drive you back very carefully, ma’am.’ He sounded contrite, as if a schoolboy caught daring something foolish.
‘He is insufferable. And, Lord Collingbourne, I have complete trust in your driving capability.’ Until he set his horses in motion once more, this was perfectly true.
Frederick Pullinger, Earl of Easby, was not a man who wasted time in bemoaning his fate, at the gaming table, on the Turf or with women.
If his pockets were sometimes to let after deep play at the tables, he worked on the, thus far, accurate assumption that his luck would turn; if a woman tired him earlier than he had anticipated, he cut his losses, shrugged and took up another.
After all, blessed with impeccable lineage, ready wit, burnished wavy locks and a charming smile, conquests came easily to him.
In fact, the truth was that sometimes he wished there was just a bit more risk of failure, a little more excitement to the chase.
That the mamas warned their vulnerable daughters that he was ‘dangerous’ worried him not at all, since he rarely dallied with ingénues, but preferred more experienced game.
Widows, and bored ladies with idle or blinkered husbands, were more to his taste.
His current flirt, to put it no higher, was in the last category, and it had all been very entertaining, but he was starting to find that her imperious demands were excessive, and the pleasure was beginning to pall.
In normal circumstances it would have run its course a little longer, but the elevation of Miss Ashling to the position of unconquerable gave him 112a new target, and the prospect of all the excitement for which he could possibly wish.
He had taken no interest in her at the commencement of the Season, for, after all, she was but an unsuccessful debutante of several Seasons back, and chasing other men’s rejects, as opposed to wives, was not his idea of sport.
However, once transformed into ‘the Unassailable’, and with favourable reports of a tidy little fortune, he took in every detail of her.
Having had experience of Society, she was not a shrinking violet with whom he would have to tread as if upon eggshells; she had enough money to make it worth his while considering her as a wife; and had expressed a preference for the country, which would enable him to establish her there, should he wed her, and then conveniently forget her as soon as he decided to carry on in his usual vein.
Success with the Unassailable would also make him the toast of the Season in the clubs, where those who had failed would admire his skill and envy his success.
All in all, it was a prospect that put a spring in his step and set his mind racing to devise the best means of trapping his prize.
He was not going to rush in, for that way lay disaster, and he had little expectation of being beaten to the finishing line by the hasty.
Rather, he watched his prey, assessed her weaknesses, formed a plan of campaign that would have won him plaudits in Horse Guards, and then set about putting it into action without making it look as if he had done anything at all.
Miss Ashling would not be won with honeyed words, and so Easby refrained from uttering any.
When they were introduced, and he engineered it cleverly, he seemed 113disinterested, and waited to see if this alone would spark the lady’s curiosity.
Women were, in general, a curious species, he had found, and few could resist a man who feigned no interest in their pretty frames.
Miss Ashling turned out to be of their select number, which only fuelled Easby’s own determination.
This might, he thought, be a worthwhile chase.
He had observed her in the park, and had made a swift and accurate assessment of her abilities as a horsewoman, whatever her mount.
He ensured his exchanges with her, when he encountered her out riding, were short, and his commiserations upon the Slug were understanding but witty.
He engineered that they met going in opposite directions, and that after a brief exchange, he would ride on.
That this began to be a regular occurrence was not meant to be obvious, either to Miss Ashling or her other admirers.
By dint of being merely friendly, and yet increasingly present, Lord Easby thought that he might be more successful than those attempting to win the Unassailable by direct assault.
He certainly lulled her into a feeling of ease and security.
She would greet his arrival with a smile, as often as not of relief, and confided some of her displeasure at the attentions she was receiving from other gentlemen.
He listened, and laughed inwardly, whilst giving her anecdotes that were both mildly amusing and showed his rivals, ever so slightly, in an even less complimentary light.
Unused to such Machiavellian tactics, Elizabeth accepted him at face value, simply pleased to have someone with whom she need not be on her guard all the time.
She innocently 114admitted that she regretted not being able to drive even a pair of horses, and accepted his offer to teach her with genuine pleasure.
‘However, you must know, ma’am, that in some circles eyebrows will be raised. I am accounted dangerous.’
The admission was made in a conspiratorial tone, and its very frankness disarmed her.
‘Dangerous, my lord?’
‘Oh yes, very. Matchmaking mamas lie awake at night worrying that I might show interest in their daughters.’ He smiled.
‘I do not possess a mama.’
‘No. My commiserations, Miss Ashling, but of course it does mean that your acceptance of my offer will not result in anyone suffering insomnia.’
She laughed.
Lady Chalford might not lose slumber over the matter, but she felt it incumbent upon her to draw her niece’s attention to the light in which being taught to drive by the Earl of Easby might be seen.
‘He is not a gentleman with a good reputation. He … philanders.’
‘I hardly think he is going to “philander” with me, dear Aunt. He has shown no interest in me at all, for which I am truly grateful.’
‘Elizabeth, I know you are not a girl in her first Season, and not as green as dear Amelia, but we are talking about a man of the world. I beg you to consider very carefully.’
‘Are you going to forbid me, Aunt?’
115‘No, my dear, for that would be to throw you into his arms.’
‘Into his arms? No fear of that, I assure you. I am not going to be any man’s amusement.’
Lady Chalford was only marginally relieved.
That Elizabeth was not inclined to regard Lord Easby with particular favour eased her mind, for assuredly he would hurt her, but she would still have to fend off comments from ‘wiser’ mamas, who would not cease to shake their heads if Elizabeth chose to be seen in his company, and there was also that final statement.
Lady Chalford did not want her niece to be upset again, but was equally unhappy to think that she had so set her mind against men that no gentleman might find favour with her, and make her happy.
Elizabeth herself had been left both annoyed and vaguely uncomfortable.
She disliked being under such scrutiny, and also disliked upsetting her aunt, though she felt she was being too swayed by the views of others.
At the same time, she felt a small knot of concern deep within.
Perhaps she ought to give more credence to Lord Easby’s reputation than she had previously, for she had ignored it.
That it should then be brought up by Sir Lucius Radstock made things all the worse.
He either thought her ignorant or foolish, and the small voice in her head that enquired why that should matter was resolutely pushed away.
He had yet again made her irritable, and she blamed him for her loss of temper.