CHAPTER TWENTY
He made his way to Mount Street feeling peculiarly light-headed, only to be greeted with the information that his lordship had just departed on a two-day visit back to his estates in Sussex.
Sir Lucius’s sense of disappointment was acute.
Having worked himself up to taking the plunge, he was to kick his heels for two whole days, two days that would seem interminable.
He went to his club, feeling distinctly ‘unclubbable’ and disinclined to socialise, and found himself a quiet corner with the Morning Post, behind which he hid.
However, when he came to the Court and Social page and found the announcements of engagements, he tossed the paper aside and called for a bottle of claret.
It was two glasses later that Lord Godmanchester found his friend staring at the wall, and sat down in the neighbouring chair, in some concern.
‘Not like you, Lucius, to broach a bottle so early.’
‘Hmm.’ Sir Lucius was clearly not in loquacious mood.
‘Might I take a glass?’
‘Help yourself, Giles.’ Sir Lucius was still staring at the wall, and twiddling the stem of the glass, absentmindedly, between finger and thumb.
‘I have several like that in Brook Street, you know, and just as good.’
‘What? Bottles of claret?’ The frown at the wall deepened.
‘No, walls. If it is a wall you want to stare at, old fellow, come and stare at mine. No fear of some fool coming over and asking how you are, or whether you saw so-and-so in 266Pall Mall wearing a dashed odd hat.’
Sir Lucius smiled, just a small, lopsided smile. ‘Sorry, Am I that obvious?’ He sighed. ‘I always thought myself a patient man, Giles, but it seems that I am not.’
‘Cryptic. Look, walk back to Brook Street with me, and if you feel like telling me what the deuce is up, all well and good, and if you prefer not to, I will promise not to not pry.’
He took his friend by the arm, and led him, unprotesting, up St James’s. It was only when sat in a comfortable chair in Lord Godmanchester’s book room that Sir Lucius unburdened himself.
‘Two days!’ he announced at the end. ‘What am I to do for two whole days? It was bad enough last night. I am surprised I did not choke myself by tying my tongue in knots as I tossed and turned. Tell me, Giles, was it this hard for you?’
‘Sorry, not quite, Lucius. I mean there was always the chance old Sir Marcus might send me to the right about, but the dibs were in tune, and I was never a here-and-thereian, so it was unlikely. I thought Helen was well disposed towards me, but nothing more. Mind you, I was head over heels about her, of course. The worst bit, to be frank, was after we tied the knot. You see, in a way she hardly knew me and there we were, you know, just the two of us. I was so afraid of, well, frightening her. Talk about shy! I do not know which of us was the more so.’
Sir Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. Asking ‘What happened?’ was definitely not the thing.
‘In the end I decided honesty was the best policy. I sat 267there in the bed, as upright as if receiving castor oil from Matron at school (remember those days?), and told her just what I felt about her, how much I longed to inspire such feelings in her, how all I wanted was to make her happy. And you know what she did?’ Giles Godmanchester shook his head, still mystified several years later.
‘Er, no.’ Half of Sir Lucius’s mind was dealing with the thought of being in the same bed as Elizabeth Ashling, and it was exceedingly distracting.
‘She burst into tears. Weirdest thing. Panicked me well and truly, it did. Then she said she was crying because what I said was beautiful and she was so happy. Never have quite got the hang of women and crying. And then it was sort of natural to put an arm about her to comfort her, and one thing, you know, led to another. It may seem a terribly hard thing to tackle just this minute, but I tell you what, Lucius, getting married was the best thing I ever did.’
‘I have no doubt of that, Giles, nor that it would be so for me, if only I had confidence she would say yes. I just do not know what I will do if she refuses me.’
‘But why should she, my dear friend? I can think of no possible reason why she should not be delighted to receive your offer.’
Unfortunately, there were two, and Lady Rendlesham had discovered both of them.
Aurelia Rendlesham was like a spider in the centre of a web; she felt the tremors in distant threads and went to investigate in case there was anything worth wrapping up for later use.
She felt, rather than knew, that something had 268happened when Lord Easby did not appear at functions two nights running where she knew he had been engaged to attend, and then on the third behaved in a slightly peculiar way with Miss Ashling.
She knew his body language pretty well, and also that the country dance that he danced with her was one he loathed.
There must, therefore, be a reason for his standing up with the lady, and it was most certainly not indicative of victory.
Lady Rendlesham had a suspicious mind, and, thanks to a generous allowance, an open purse.
She thought the money she expended on one of her grooms whiling away an evening in an alehouse that Lord Easby’s servants were wont to frequent during their leisure hours, well spent, especially when it meant that she found out his lordship had returned from driving Miss Ashling round the park sporting a thick lip, bloody nose and the hint of a black eye.
She naturally enough did not assume these injuries were inflicted by the lady herself, but by some gentleman desirous of defending her honour, for some as yet unknown reason.
That the man would be Sir Lucius Radstock was not hard to work out.
Part of her hoped that he would fail with Elizabeth Ashling, since seeing her on the shelf and dwindling as a spinster made her feel very smug, but at the same time it was hard not to wish to gloat over Lord Easby’s failure.
He had said he would shrug and move on, but Lady Rendlesham knew how highly he valued himself, and how little he understood failure. This must rankle.
It was two evenings later, on the eve of Sir Lucius’s Derby expedition, that she was able to get close to Lord Easby in one of Lady Sumercote’s drawing rooms. He did not look, 269when he thought himself unobserved, a very contented man.
Lady Rendlesham could barely contain her delight, and worked her way to his side.
‘So, my lord’ – she smiled with assumed sweetness – ‘I hope you are recovered from your, er, unexpected bloodletting. I do hope it vented any excess passions from your blood.’
He looked sharply at her. ‘I fail to un—’
‘No, really, my lord, I think you have to admit I know you far too well for silly lies. I wonder what you did that brought about such violence. Oh, do not tell me that you forgot that simpering maidens do not play by the rules that we married ladies comprehend so well. Was the poor little thing overcome by shock?’ She tittered.
‘You would have been better remaining at my side, Frederick.’
‘Hardly, madam,’ he snapped. ‘Far better the dangers of the chase than deadly boredom.’
Her eyes flashed, and two spots of colour that owed nothing to the rouge pot flew onto her cheeks.
‘Indeed, sir. Ennui is so much a part of a woman’s relationship with men that we become inured to it.
’ Her beautifully moulded lip curled. ‘For a man who said it mattered not if the lady proved impervious to your self-inflated charms, you look blue as megrim, my lord. You have no chance of her now, of course, and how much more galling it must be to see her falling like a ripe plum into the welcoming hands of Sir Lucius Radstock. You do so like your fruit ripe, as I recall.’
The look he shot her was of loathing, and she almost laughed out loud.
This was more entertaining than the 270most daring dalliance.
She was suddenly reminded of an incident as a girl, when a cat had brought a mouse into the schoolroom, and proceeded to play with it before killing it.
Her sisters and governess had screamed and hidden their eyes, but she had watched and applauded the cat’s ruthlessness in its tormenting.
‘I take it Sir Lucius’s hands were not so welcoming to you, by the way. How foolish of you, my lord, to take liberties, and one assumes that was what you were doing, in a place where others might intervene.’
‘You should be careful of your sharp tongue, ma’am, lest you cut yourself with it.’ Easby smiled, but spoke through gritted teeth.
‘Do tell. You were teaching her to drive, as I recall. Did she find your hands over-responsive? Or did you meet her out riding upon that grey of Godmanchester’s?’
‘No more Godmanchester’s than mine, my lady. Ah, you do not know everything, you see. That horse was chosen and paid for by Radstock. I only found that truth today.’
Lady Rendlesham caught her breath, and Easby thought briefly that he had at least paid her back for one jibe. A slow smile spread across her face, a smile that was purely private. Then she laughed very softly, and gave the Earl a look that was both disdainful and mocking.
‘Oh, my lord, such a fool as you are, but then that is the way of men. You cannot see the weapons before you unless they are those of physical violence, which are, I am sure you will agree, exceedingly clumsy.’
He frowned, not understanding her, which increased her pleasure. The smile lengthened, and the glitter in her hard 271eyes made him almost recoil at the depth of their calculating malice.
‘Poor Frederick. You really ought to withdraw to those encumbered estates of yours, and lick your wounds in private, or are you going to make a last-minute attempt on the Gillingham girl, out of pure desperation? Sorry, impure desperation.’