CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘It would seem you have, unintentionally, acted as Cupid, Lucius.’
‘Not a role to which I have ever aspired, I promise you.’ Sir Lucius’s lip curled. He seemed only half attending, and it was not because of negotiating the traffic.
‘Nonetheless, I would be very surprised if Carbrooke doesn’t offer for the chit.’
‘Lady Chalford clearly has high hopes of Nuneaton.’
‘I think “had” is more accurate now, my friend. His behaviour today did not show him in a good light at all, and to be honest, I do not think he would walk into parson’s mousetrap after all these years.
He has admired her, yes, as a pretty object, but he showed absolutely no interest in how that bungled theft affected her at all.
No, Lady Chalford ought to be very pleased with her offspring forming an attachment with Carbrooke.
He might not have the wealth, but he is a good-hearted young man, who will no doubt be very steady once married. ’
‘I cannot pretend to have made a study of his good 254points, and I know little more of him than he is an admirer of Chalford’s daughter, and was a good way of guaranteeing her presence in my party, but I will say this: he can run well.’
‘A sprinter not a stayer, though, eh, Lucius.’
‘I wouldn’t set him over more than five furlongs, no.’
‘And’ – Godmanchester grinned, returning to his subject – ‘he plainly dotes upon the girl.’
‘Plainly. I only hope the sight of them did not make Miss Ashling feel queasy on the journey back.’
Sir Lucius sounded almost bitter, and his friend, sensing that Lucius found the sight of another man’s courtship coming so easily towards a successful conclusion was hard to bear when his own remained in the balance, dropped the subject.
Having deposited his friend at his house, Sir Lucius made his way back to his own residence in silence, prey to jumbled thoughts.
When he handed his matched bays over to the groom, he did so with courteous thanks to him, and to those who had driven the barouche, but with his mind elsewhere.
Once indoors, he withdrew into his library, and sat at the desk with his chin resting on his long, steepled fingers, and a pronounced frown.
The day had been most successful but the morrow still filled him with trepidation.
Ironic as it was, he had fallen for the woman least likely to want a declaration among all the single ladies of his acquaintance.
He had supposed, vaguely, that one day he would see a woman he admired, would find his feelings, of whatever depth, reciprocated, 255and life would continue smoothly in the married rather than single state.
He had seen men in the tangled passions of love and thought himself immune from their anguish.
Now he saw the error of his self-assurance.
Elizabeth Ashling had a sort of serene, dark beauty for which he had a natural preference, but he had seen plenty of far more obvious dark beauties before and never felt as he did now.
He tried to analyse those feelings, and found himself more, rather than less, confused.
She was not meek and amenable, and had frequently snapped at him, which had made him wish to retaliate in kind, but he knew she was not shrewish.
She was quick-witted, independent, yet desperately vulnerable, and he wanted to protect her, take whatever burdens she carried from her, chase away the demons that seemed to haunt her.
When they had first met he had heard her say, bitterly, that she would grant men nothing, and her subsequent behaviour had marked her simply as a natural man-hater.
Yet no sooner than she been placed in the awkward position of having men pursue her, and from his own foolish intemperance, he had begun to see that whilst she distrusted men, she distrusted herself more.
At parties she was always aware of her position as ‘prey’.
She was fearful of attention, but at heart, more afraid of giving anything of herself.
Despite this, in the saddle she had forgotten her sex, and been confident, one human being engaging with another.
He had learnt that there was so much more to her than the defensive spinster.
When she forgot to be afraid, he found her a kindred spirit who could understand his passion for bloodstock, who could spar light-heartedly with words, 256seemed happy in his presence, and yet, as today, she would suddenly pull up short, shy away from him.
She had been laughing, eyes shining, excited and vital, and then this chasm had appeared between them, a chasm he could not explain, and the camaraderie, the closeness, disappeared into it.
He wanted that closeness; he wanted her as she had been when watching the racing; he wanted to shield her from whatever blackness it was that descended upon her.
She put him at arm’s length, and it frustrated him.
When she withdrew he had no belief that if he offered his protection, and yes, he admitted it, his love, she would accept it.
Rather, she was likely to draw back from him entirely.
It hurt his pride that she would not trust him, but it hurt his heart more, and he was unsure how to overcome her reluctance.
If she had the slightest tendre for him, and there had been evidence of it, surely it was possible?
And if she had not, what else might he do to win her?
The clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the hour, and he sighed, ran a hand through his now slightly disordered hair, and went upstairs to change.
‘Was it not kind, Mama, of Lord Carbrooke to promise to come round to Mount Street tomorrow to see that we are all recovered from our exertions?’
Lady Chalford winced. She had seen her hopes of Lord Nuneaton dashed, and in truth, was most displeased with the man for his abysmal attitude.
A reasonable woman, she could understand Amelia’s tendre for the handsome Viscount, and the loving mother in her was delighted that her affections had found, seemingly, reciprocation.
However, 257her matchmaking mama side had too raw a wound in Nuneaton’s failure to, as yet, rejoice in the likely declaration of the lesser ‘prize’ of Carbrooke.
‘… and he said that he rather thought he might be making up a party of his own to visit Astley’s, and …’
‘We heard, Amelia. Now do, I beg of you, go upstairs and change your gown, and leave me in peace. I fear I have a sick headache coming on, and I think that I will take but a little supper in my room.’
Amelia was immediately apologetic, but it was Elizabeth who gave her aunt her arm up the stairs to her bedchamber. Lady Chalford bade her come in for a moment, and sat heavily upon her daybed.
‘He will offer for her, of course.’
‘And when you are less wearied, dear Aunt, you will be delighted.’
‘Perhaps. She could have achieved a better match if she had applied herself, though; I am sure of it.’ Lady Chalford sighed.
‘Better in terms of position and wealth, possibly, but they will deal extremely well together and she will be happy. Is not that far more important?’
Lady Chalford nodded, but sniffed, whether at the thought of the lost brilliant match or the realisation that her daughter would actually be leaving her for a household of her own, it was impossible to judge.
Elizabeth had little doubt that a rest, and a rather more substantial meal than she had suggested, combined with some sound good sense from her lord, would see Lady Chalford’s spirits revived with the new day.
Elizabeth left her, keen to have the 258solitude in which to consider her own situation, but this was again denied her, since, as she passed Amelia’s room, that damsel peered out, and beckoned her within.
Amelia had discarded her gown for it to be brushed down by her maid, and was only attired in her petticoats and a rather fetching pale apple-green dressing gown.
Her cheeks were still slightly flushed and her eyes sparkled.
‘What a day we have had, to be sure. I never thought it would be that exciting.’
‘No indeed. That first race was so close too.’ Elizabeth smiled, teasing, as Amelia blinked. ‘Oh, were you not referring to the horses?’
‘I … Oh, you wretch! You know I scarcely saw nor cared about the horses, except that race where Lord Carbrooke took me to stand by the rail. Were not the horses fast?’
‘Yes, thankfully. I would not care to have to watch a race of slow horses.’
Amelia pouted, but her eyes betrayed her.
‘It is not right that you should mock me so. Just because you care for nothing that does not stand on four legs.’ Amelia did not notice the sudden twist to her cousin’s smile.
‘He is wonderful, isn’t he, and do not ask if I mean the horse that won the Derby. ’
‘I will not, Amelia, and he is certainly a very nice young man.’
‘And so fast! I had barely time to exclaim and away he went …’
‘Like a greyhound after a hare.’
‘Like a … No. How could you? He was brave too, for the thief might have had accomplices.’
259‘Possibly over four and a half feet tall also.’ Elizabeth held up her hand. ‘Yes, I know that he did not know whom he might encounter, or rather, did not consider his own safety, Amelia. It was the thoughtless act of a young man, “thoughtless” of himself and thinking only of you.’
Amelia blushed rosily, and tears came to her eyes. ‘I have never met anyone like him, Elizabeth, never.’