CHAPTER TEN
Lord Easby took things slowly. Rushing one’s fences never led to anything but a sore head, as he had found from bitter experience, and besides, this was a chase worth savouring.
Those of a suspicious mind, and Sir Lucius Radstock was of their number, thought he ‘prowled’, but Elizabeth saw only the hand of disinterested and amusing friendship.
For all her suspicion of men, she had very little experience of them, and certainly none of experienced rakes.
She did not encourage him, as she thought, but her refusal to send him to the right about fuelled comment, and those with unofficial wagers on his success took heart.
Those who pulled Sir Lucius away from the unfortunate fellow thought this might be considered a challenge, but the shaken gentleman was in his cups enough to make forcing the point excessive.
‘No, no, Lucius, can’t you see the fellow’s top-heavy? Let it go. Far more embarrassing to the lady to make it something that is bound to get out.’ Lord Bensthorpe gripped his arm.
Sir Lucius’s eyes were very hard, and he whispered between lips drawn thin with anger, ‘Then get him out of my sight, before I succumb to the urge to break his neck.’
Lord Bensthorpe spoke soothingly, and jerked his head to speed others in leading away the now garrulously apologetic offender.
The incident was witnessed by only a few, but enough of what took place spread about among the gentlemen to give some food for thought.
Sir Lucius was not numbered among the ‘Forlorn Hope’, as Miss Ashling’s admirers were becoming known, but he did seem to possess a very guard-dog-like attitude to her wellbeing.
A couple of gentlemen decided to become less attentive, and Mr Escott, emerging from his poetic seclusion, was heard murmuring about Nemesis.
Lord Easby, when it reached his ears, merely raised an eyebrow and smiled.
Lucius Radstock might have a way with horses, but he had never tried to keep a filly in skirts up to the bit. As a rival, he could be discounted.
It was in this mood of superiority that he attended Lady 131Manningham’s ball. He danced with Elizabeth, just once, though it was a waltz, and was as amusing as always, animadverting upon several nearly innocuous subjects, and leaving her looking almost relaxed.
Sir Lucius, watching, wondered if she would appear so pleased when she danced with him. He had secured the waltz before supper, and had the distinct impression that she would have made some excuse and refused him, had she not been with the Godmanchesters.
Lord Easby, having made his bow to his dancing partner and returned her to Lady Chalford, did not make the mistake of watching her overtly thereafter, but did so covertly, and with a glitter in his eyes.
She did not know it but she was weakening.
This thought so pleased him that he smiled to himself, and did not notice Lady Rendlesham at his shoulder.
‘I had not thought you would be one to join the throng, my lord.’ Her voice had a bite to it, and her eyes glittered. ‘After all, she is but the failure of Seasons past, wearing the fresh garb of disdain and flaunting her spinsterhood. What could Elizabeth Ashling possibly have to attract you?’
‘You mean, my dear, what could she have to draw my attention from you? What a beautifully vain and selfish creature you are, Aurelia. As one myself, I cannot but admire your self-worth. However, you forget two things. The first is purely practical: you are already married.’
‘You do not intend, I hope, to spout morality at me. It would seem rather too late.’ She looked at him, her eyes half veiled by the heavy lids, her smile very knowing.
‘Not in the least. What we had, and I use the past 132tense intentionally, was entrancing, entertaining, infinitely amusing. But if you think I would remain single out of devotion, you are deluding yourself, and if you believe I am seeking to play the cuckoo, and see my brats in other men’s nurseries, you are sadly mistaken.
Miss Ashling is beautiful,’ he raised a hand as she opened her mouth to comment, ‘and I know how little you like that epithet applied to others, my sweet. She is deliciously dark, not unlike you of course, but she is also wealthy enough to restore my dwindling assets, at least for a time, and single. What more could a man wish for in a mate?’
‘If it is money you are after, why content yourself with her, when Lady Maria Gillingham is worth twice as much?’
‘That is unfair, to suggest I would pursue such an unappealing prize. She has money, but that is all. A man would have to be drowning in debt to court so plain a face and discordant voice, and I am not that far gone, I assure you.’
‘Then why not me, three years ago?’
‘Ah’ – he smiled – ‘but then neither debts nor the march of time seemed so pressing that I should contemplate having to become leg-shackled, a state to which I admit I am temperamentally unsuited. Also, married women are so much more interesting, unencumbered by the veil of maidenly modesty, no longer having to pretend they do not understand one’s intentions. You knew mine from the first.’
She coloured.
‘Besides, what hope would I have had, a mere earl, against the advantages of Rendlesham, excepting, of course, wit, charm, figure and age. You chose the bed with the best 133coronet above it, my love, and if lying in it is unexciting, well, you have proved you are not averse to …’
‘Stop it.’ She averted her face.
‘Oh no, you are the one who said it was too late for morality, my dear.’ He paused.
‘And there is the second reason why the Unassailable attracts my attentions: pure masculine pride. The thought of succeeding where so many others fail, of my conquest being applauded by the disinterested and resented by the defeated, is a prospect that fires my ambition.’
‘And if she does not crumble before your assault, what then, my lord?’
He shrugged. ‘There will be others. I shall forget it and pass on. As you will, my lady. We are remarkably alike.’ He paused.
‘But you would be wise to provide Rendlesham with an heir, before lying elsewhere. We have sailed close to the wind, you and I, far too close. Husbands can overlook “mistakes”, but not if they are like to step into their shoes. I speak from observation, merely. Of course, if he is not capa—’
‘I have no intention of discussing my marriage with you,’ Lady Rendlesham declared, in a heated whisper.
‘My apologies. You are quite right, of course. A woman should never discuss her husband with her lover, or even her former lover. Now there is Marcus Chivers. I particularly wanted to speak to him about something.’ He sounded insultingly vague. ‘If you will excuse me, my dear?’
He made her a polite bow and turned away, and she was conscious of it being a dismissal.
She did not let her eyes follow him, though she knew the urge to do so.
She was 134not crushed, or broken-hearted, for, as he had said, she was very like him.
What had been between them was not love, or even affection, but had been ‘amusing’, and the edge of risk and subterfuge exciting.
It had kept her from being bored. What rankled was that he should break with her, rather than she giving him his congé.
She was not a woman used to disaffection.
She understood his cool reasoning, but resented beyond measure that he should be turning from her to Elizabeth Ashling.
It was a very thoughtful Lady Rendlesham who let a gentleman so uninteresting as to normally be treated with contempt procure her refreshment.
‘My dear Lady Rendleham, has Easby put you out of countenance?’ Lord Nuneaton proffered the glass. ‘He is not worth a puckering of those divinely arched brows, I assure you.’
‘Nothing of the sort, my lord. I am merely perplexed as to why he is chasing after Miss Ashling, who has been given the title “the Unassailable” when she ought to be termed “the Unappealing”.’
‘Ah, then I must indeed have misheard, ma’am.’ Nuneaton gave a sly smile, and she looked at him rather closely.
‘Are you telling me it was you who coined the phrase, my lord?’
‘Almost. I did, shall we say, ensure it was not lost to Society.’
‘Why?’ Her question was frank.
‘Because I … have my reasons.’
‘You are very provoking, sir.’
‘Yes, she thinks that too, but for different reasons, ma’am.’ Nuneaton’s smile lengthened the more.
135Elizabeth, despite herself, was happy this evening.
Perhaps it was the dancing. Her partners had not proved to have two left feet, and if some were a trifle dull, it meant that she could respond without having to think, and concentrate upon the music.
Lord Easby was a competent dancer, and a better companion.
He had complimented her upon her gown, but without flowery exaggeration, and sounded, as always, merely a polite man of sense.
Lord Foxton was nimble of toe, but not of brain, and Lord Collingbourne had, wisely, been offered only a cotillion.
Sir Lucius Radstock, well, she wondered why he had asked her to dance at all, for he had done so with such a serious expression.
Part of her wanted to refuse him, and yet she had not done so.
He confused her. She wanted to avoid him, but knew that she felt something akin to a ripple of pleasure when they met, even though they usually ended at odds with each other.
She did not trust him, and yet felt peculiarly safe in his company.
When he approached to claim his dance, she smiled, but it was a smile with caution in her eyes. A slight frown appeared between his dark brows.
‘Miss Ashling, if you wish to cry off …’
‘No, indeed, Sir Lucius, no such thing.’
‘I will not tread upon your toes, if that is what you fear, you know.’