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As he watched, Lady Wycherley loosened the ribbons of the bonnet and, with one impatient gesture, flung it away from her. It bowled across the grass and came to rest under one of the trees, and Annis Wycherley laughed. Adam heard her. The late afternoon sunlight fell on her face, upturned to that of her cousin. She looked young and free and happy.
‘Well, bless me,’ Miss Mardyn said, forgetting her accent for once and sounding both older and irredeemably English, ‘look at her hair!’
Adam looked again. Then he stopped. And stared. Loose from the bonnet, Annis Wycherley’s long, blonde hair had come cascading down around her shoulders in a tumble of gold. It shone in the sun like a newly minted coin and framed a heart-shaped face that suddenly looked piquant and pretty.
‘I’ll be damned!’ Adam found that he was smiling. ‘What do you say now, Margot?’
‘Why, I think that she must be an even greater fool to hide such beauty,’ Miss Mardyn said acerbically. She had recovered her poise and now flounced away from the window. ‘Such a thing is incroyable! She would make a passable courtesan with hair like that and a good figure. Not as attractive as me, perhaps, but all the same…’
‘I rather think she disguises herself because she is a chaperon,’ Adam said. He had never met Annis Wycherley in London, but he remembered quite well that she had a reputation for being able to settle even the most unpromising of girls. Now he could see that she had quite a lot of promise herself. ‘No one is going to employ her as a companion if she outshines her charges!’
Miss Mardyn looked uncomprehending. ‘Eh bien, why be a chaperon if one can be a cyprian? I do not understand that, me!’
‘No,’ Adam murmured. ‘I do not suppose that you do.’
He watched Annis Wycherley for a moment, then strolled back to his chair and picked up the paper again as Tranter, the butler, came into the room, accompanied by a footman with the tea tray. There was an item about Samuel Ingram buying the lease to the local turnpike and building new tollhouses on the Skipton road. One of them would be near Eynhallow…
‘What do you think of the current state of the turnpike trusts, my dear?’ he asked Miss Mardyn, as the teacups were handed around.
Miss Mardyn bent a charming smile on the dazzled butler, then turned back to her host. ‘I have no opinion on it, Ashy darling. You should know better than to ask me. Politics, economics…pah! The whole business bores me. I never read the papers.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘If I had realised that you were turning into such a dead bore yourself, I should have agreed to play Cheltenham rather than Harrogate this summer. I hear the shops are better!’
Adam smiled. ‘I do apologise for being such poor company, my dear. Perhaps you will find other gentlemen who please you more. Mr Lafoy, for example.’
La Mardyn dismissed Charles Lafoy with a wave of one white hand. ‘Oh, the conquest would be fun, but after that is over…pouf…I expect he is as dull as ditchwater. Are there no other eligible gentlemen in Harrogate, Ashy? I must amuse myself.’
‘I see that the Earl and Countess of Glasgow are here to take the waters this season,’ Adam said, consulting the paper, ‘though I fear the Earl may be a little infirm for you, Margot, and not very plump in the pocket to compensate. There is Lord Boyles—Boyles by name and by nature, I believe, so again, a gloomy prospect. Ah! Sir Everard Doble. He is a young man, and not ill favoured, if memory serves me. He might be a possibility.’
‘Sir Everard Doble…’ Miss Mardyn repeated. ‘Well, we shall see, Ashy. And how will you amuse yourself?’
Adam’s gaze fell on the paper again. ‘Oh, I have plenty to occupy me, Margot. Estate business will keep me quite busy, I fear…’
From the garden came the sound of feminine laughter, spontaneous and infectious. Adam’s gaze narrowed. He resolved that he would definitely find out more about Annis Wycherley. She seemed a most uncommon chaperon.
‘That sounds lamentably boring, darling,’ Margot Mardyn said, yawning widely.
‘On the contrary,’ Adam said, with a smile. ‘I have the feeling that my stay could be very interesting indeed.’
Chapter Two
Tickets for Miss Mardyn’s performance proved to be the most sought-after items in Harrogate, and it was a whole fortnight before Charles Lafoy could book a box at the Theatre Royal. Thus it was that, on a Thursday evening two weeks later, Annis sat in the theatre and reflected that acting as chaperon to two high-spirited girls at the same time was utterly exhausting. The Misses Crossley had taken to Harrogate society like ducks to water, and every day had been packed with outings and every evening with parties and entertainments. Indeed, a trip to the theatre was a rare luxury, for it allowed Annis to keep an eye on both girls at once and sit down at the same time. On this particular evening she was further blessed, for she had the pleasure of her family’s company as well. Charles, Sibella and Sibella’s husband David had all accompanied them to the theatre that night.
‘That was very…entertaining, was it not?’ she said, joining in the applause as Margot Mardyn executed her final spin and ran gracefully from the stage. ‘Miss Mardyn is really quite talented.’
Annis caught her cousin Sibella’s gaze. Sibella was an indolent blonde who had been an accredited beauty in her youth and still had the fair Lafoy looks, blurring a little into comfortable plumpness now. Sibella glanced towards the men and rolled her eyes expressively.
‘I hear that dancing is the least of Miss Mardyn’s talents!’ she said.
Annis laughed. The sight of the shapely Miss Mardyn in her gauzy finery had transfixed the male members of the audience. Miss Mardyn might not be a particularly skilful dancer or indeed an above average singer, but no one in the audience cared a whit for that, Annis thought. Harrogate had never seen anything quite like her and the whole auditorium was buzzing with excitement. Annis could not help wondering whether it had been a suitable entertainment for the Misses Crossley. Perhaps the more provocative of Miss Mardyn’s dance movements had passed them by. She hoped so.
She consulted her theatre programme. ‘I see that there is an interval now. Would you care to stretch your legs, girls?’
‘No, thank you, Lady Wycherley,’ Fanny Crossley said pertly. ‘Lucy and I shall do very well where we are. We are…admiring these country fashions…’
The two girls dissolved into giggles and Annis sighed inwardly. She knew perfectly well that the Crossley girls were hanging over the edge of the box so that they could assess all the young gentlemen in the audience and be admired in return. Miss Fanny, attired in a fussy dress of yellow silk that Annis privately thought much too old for her, was making waspish observations. Miss Lucy was agreeing eagerly. Miss Crossley and her echo, Annis thought. There was no malice in Lucy Crossley, for her elder sister had enough for two, but Lucy did so like to agree with everyone.
‘Look at that strange gentleman there, Luce—’ Miss Crossley was pointing with her fan into the pit. ‘Why, he is as scruffy as a scarecrow and I do believe the candle wax has dripped on his bald head! How absurd he looks!’ She stifled a giggle.
‘Quite absurd,’ Lucy echoed dutifully.
‘That is the Marquis of Midlothian,’ Annis said. ‘He is a most highly respected gentleman.’
During the first two weeks of the Miss Crossleys’ visit, when Annis had been getting their measure, she had corrected Fanny’s bad manners and barbed remarks. Now, in the third week, she had realised that there was little point in trying to improve the elder Miss Crossley. Fanny was vulgar through and through, and, unlike her sister, was disinclined to accept guidance. Indeed, any attempt to improve Fanny’s behaviour often had the reverse effect, for she was like a wilful small child. As a result, Annis often held her tongue and concentrated instead on the large sum of money that Sir Robert Crossley was paying her to chaperon his tiresome niece. She simply hoped that she would not be tempted to strangle the goose that laid the golden eggs before the egg actually materialised.
‘A marquis!’ Fanny looked put out, then brightened. ‘Oh, but as it is an Irish title one cannot be surprised that he looks all to pieces. I hear the Irish aristocracy are a ramshackle bunch.’
‘They may well be,’ Annis said, ‘but Midlothian is a Scottish title.’
Fanny turned her shoulder to Annis and leaned towards Lucy again. ‘Look at the shocking quiz in that purple feathered turban,’ she said, in a stage whisper. ‘I do declare she is the greatest frump in creation!’
Since Annis herself was wearing dowager purple and a turban that night, it was easy to see at whom Fanny’s shaft was aimed. Lucy flushed an embarrassed pink, cast Annis an agonised look and muttered something unintelligible. Annis smiled at her reassuringly. It took more than a few malicious words from a slip of a girl to discompose her. Lucy was more upset than she was.
Annis turned her attention to the crowds milling in the pit and aisles. Everybody who was anybody took a box, of course, but during the intervals they all went for a stroll and greeted their acquaintances. Some even went out onto the green in front of the theatre to get a breath of fresh air, for on a hot summer night the temperature inside could become stifling. The general scene in the auditorium was one of immense, cheerful disarray now. Gentlemen were leaning over the green rails of the gallery and accosting their friends below. Ladies preened and fluttered their fans. Annis, watching, felt a warm pleasure to be back home.
‘I see that the Ashwicks have taken a box tonight,’ Sibella said, leaning forward to speak in Annis’s ear. ‘It has been so awkward this year past, Annis, for although Lord Ashwick had mostly been in London, the rest of the family have stayed at Eynhallow and frequently come to Harrogate. I have scarcely known what to say to them, for it is such a small town one cannot avoid one’s acquaintance. Yet everyone knows of the difficulties between the Ashwicks and Mr Ingram, and I have felt so uncomfortable because of Charles’s involvement…’ Her voice trailed away and she looked unhappily at Charles, who was chatting in an undertone to David at the back of the box.
Annis patted her hand comfortingly. Sibella, like Lucy Crossley, wished everyone to be happy, but sometimes it was simply not possible.
‘Charles has a job to do—’
‘I know.’ Sibella gripped her hand. ‘I know he does not have the funds to do anything but work for a living. Neither of us inherited anything from our father. Yet I do not like Charles’s job, Annis. Particularly when it obliges me to be polite to Samuel Ingram and his wife! Speaking of which, I do believe that they are coming this way…’
Annis followed her gaze. It was many years since she had met Samuel Ingram, but he looked very much the same. He was a tall man, stout and with the prosperous air of consequence of the self-made merchant. His waistcoat was just a little too ornate with its gold embroidery and a large signet ring shone on his right hand. Beside him, Venetia Ingram glowed like a rare jewel. Annis watched as Ingram solicitously escorted his wife through the crowd, a hand in the small of her back. He shone with pride, like a preening turkey cock. There were those who said that Ingram’s only weakness was his young wife. When it came to the fair sex, Annis knew that there was no fool like an old fool, for she had taken advantage of that fact herself, when finding suitors for some of her charges.
‘Who is that lady over there, with the old man?’ Fanny Crossley said, and in her voice Annis heard all the cruelty and envy of youth. ‘She is so very beautiful…’
‘That is Mrs Ingram,’ Sibella said. She caught Annis’s eye and grimaced. ‘Mr Ingram is not so very old, Miss Crossley—’
‘I expect that he must be rich, to be married to such an incomparable,’ Lucy Crossley said wisely, and Annis sighed. She could not rebuke Lucy for so accurate an observation. Money marrying beauty was, after all, the way of the world in much the same way as money married a title.
‘Come along now, girls,’ Sibella said, with surprising firmness. ‘It will do you good to have a little exercise. Did you not know that if you sit still all the time you will become fat and then what will the gentlemen think of you? We shall go down into the foyer for a few minutes. David, if you would be so good as to give me your arm, you may take Miss Lucy on your other side. Charles, I know you would be delighted to escort Miss Crossley.’
Annis threw her a grateful look. Sibella was indolent to a fault, but she was kind-hearted and she was also sensitive. Sibella knew that Annis found the Crossley girls very tiresome at times, but she had put herself out to take the girls out shopping and introduce them to other young ladies and chaperons who might share the burden a little. Annis had been extremely touched by her cousin’s kindness for she knew that given a choice, neither Charles nor Sibella would have come near the Crossleys girls with a barge pole. Unfortunately, she herself could not be so choosy. Her livelihood depended on chaperoning the nieces, wards and daughters of cits and minor gentry and she counted herself fortunate that most of them, unlike Fanny Crossley, were pleasant company.
‘Luce, it is Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood!’ Fanny, having espied some red-coated gentlemen in the gallery, turned to grab her sister’s hand. ‘You remember—we met them yesterday at the Promenade Rooms!’ She frowned slightly. ‘I do hope they have not taken seats in the upper gallery. They only cost a shilling each!’
‘Lieutenant Norwood!’ Lucy’s face was suddenly poppy red. ‘Oh, let us go down. Quickly! We shall miss them else!’
The two girls scampered out of the box like a couple of puppies and Sibella subsided into her seat again. ‘You shall never teach those girls how to go on, Annis,’ she said, watching as the Crossley sisters rushed out into the pit and waved energetically at the gentlemen in the gallery. ‘Miss Lucy has possibilities, but is led astray by that hoyden of a sister, and as for Miss Fanny, the best thing you can do is to promote the Doble match as quickly as possible and get rid of her. How does it progress?’
‘Quite well, I think,’ Annis said. She had been disappointed that Sir Everard Doble had not been able to join them at the theatre that night, for his courtship of Fanny was advancing, based on the need for a fortune on his part and the desire for a title on Fanny’s.
‘The problem with Fanny is that I fear she may go off at a tangent at any moment and ruin the whole plan. If she sees someone she likes better…’ Annis looked over at the officers, who were strolling down from the gallery to greet the girls. ‘Lieutenant Greaves looks very dashing in his regimentals, I know, but he has not two pennies to rub together and is a sadly unsteady character into the bargain. It is a shame that he is such a great friend to Barnaby Norwood, for I wish to encourage the one and discourage the other! Lieutenant Norwood has taken quite a fancy to Lucy, I think.’ She started to her feet. ‘You know, Sib, I had better go down and keep an eye on things. I do not trust Fanny at all.’
‘I will go,’ Sibella said resignedly, struggling up again. ‘Come, David, you may escort me down and content yourself with the thought that you are doing Annis a splendid favour. You might as well come too, Charles, in case we need the extra authority!’
Once left on her own, Annis sat back and closed her eyes. She let the hum of the crowd wash over her. Normally she enjoyed the theatre, but tonight there were too many other things going on. She had the feeling that if she gave Fanny an inch, the little hoyden would take a mile.
She opened her eyes abruptly, feeling a prickle of awareness, a sudden conviction that someone was watching her. The crowd in the theatre was dissipating a little now and Annis caught a glimpse of Charles, talking to someone behind one of the tall ornamental pilasters. His companion moved slightly, and Annis saw that it was Della Tilney, Adam Ashwick’s sister, a vivacious, dark-haired beauty who always looked supremely elegant. Annis frowned slightly. It seemed curious that Charles and Lady Tilney should be on such good terms when he worked for Ingram and she was the widow of the man Ingram had ruined…
A second later she forgot all about Della Tilney when she realised that Adam Ashwick was looking directly at her. He was leaning against a nearby pillar and he did not look away as she caught his gaze. Annis saw him incline his head slightly to acknowledge her then start moving towards her, cutting a path through the crowd with an easy authority. He did not take his eyes off her the whole time.
Annis felt a little flustered. She did not understand why Adam Ashwick should have this effect on her and it only made her more disturbed that he should do so. She fidgeted with her fan, smoothed her skirt and looked away in an attempt to calm herself, hoping that Lord Ashwick might in fact have some other destination in mind. Sibella and David had joined Fanny and Lieutenant Greaves now, breaking up their cosy tête-à-tête whilst leaving Lucy and Barnaby Norwood together. Annis smiled her appreciation at Sibella’s tactics.
‘And serve you right, you little minx!’ she said aloud.
‘Good evening, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam Ashwick’s voice came from behind her, smooth and betraying a hint of amusement. Annis jumped and spun around in her chair. So he had been intending to seek her out. The thought made her go quite hot all over.
‘Lord Ashwick. How do you do?’ She forced a polite smile. ‘I do apologise. I was not…I did not…I was not addressing you.’
‘I guessed as much.’ There was a glimmer of a smile in Adam Ashwick’s eyes. He gestured to the chair beside her. ‘May I?’
‘Oh, of course!’
Annis had assumed that he would not be staying and now felt surprise and another emotion she could not quite place. She did not look to be distinguished by Adam Ashwick’s attention and to be so set her a little on edge. It was something to do with the speculative interest she saw in his eyes, an interest he made no effort to hide. When they had met at the inn she had felt a curious tug of affinity with him and it was the last thing that she had expected or wanted. She was accustomed to living without male companionship and after an unhappy early marriage had no intention of changing that state. Yet it was disconcerting that, for all her seven-and-twenty years and her relative experience, there was a man who could disturb her equilibrium.
‘I hope that you are enjoying your return to Harrogate, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam said lazily. ‘I understand that it is several years since you were here?’
‘Indeed it is, my lord.’ Annis smiled. ‘I shall always think of this as my home even though I have spent so much time away. It is pleasant to be back here. Do you find it so?’
Adam smiled back. ‘I find Harrogate enjoyable enough for a short space of time.’
Although they were talking quite conventionally, Annis was acutely aware that Adam was watching her intently. It was as though he was making the first moves in a game—a game he showed all the signs of pursuing. Annis caught her breath at the thought.
She raised her brows coolly, determined that his appraisal should not discomfort her. ‘You do not appreciate the Yorkshire countryside, my lord?’
‘Oh, the countryside is extremely beautiful. It is the society of a small town that I find somewhat restrictive. The same company, the same balls and parties night after night…’
‘Rather like London during the Season, in fact,’ Annis said, with just a hint of asperity in her tone.
Adam laughed aloud. ‘You put me neatly in my place, ma’am! Yes, I suppose the Season in London does bear a striking resemblance to the Season anywhere else, be it Brighton or Harrogate. It is simply on a grander scale—and I have my own friends and entertainments.’
‘So I hear!’ Annis said sweetly. She saw that he was not offended by her directness; on the contrary, the laughter lines deepened about his eyes and there was amusement in their grey depths. She imagined that it would be very difficult to discommode Adam Ashwick. He had far too much experience.
Annis shifted slightly in her seat, wishing that she did not feel quite so hot. It was a humid night and, with the candles, the heat was almost overpowering. Then there was her purple turban, which was making her head itch and ache. First the black bombazine and now the dowager purple, Annis thought ruefully. It was a very long time since she had wanted a man to see her in anything other than her drab chaperon’s clothes. Now though, Adam Ashwick’s cool grey gaze was fixed appraisingly on her face and Annis was vain enough to wish that she were appearing to slightly better advantage. It was a novel experience for her to want a man to admire her and it was contrary to every sensible precept that governed her actions.
‘You are often in London, are you not, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘How comes it that we have never met there before?’
Annis gave him a very straight look. ‘It is hardly surprising that we have not met, my lord. I believe that you do not attend débutante balls and I never attend events of any other sort.’
‘Then that is one advantage that a small town confers,’ Adam observed. ‘Here we may all meet and mingle together. A decided benefit, Lady Wycherley, for otherwise I might never have met you.’
Annis laughed, refusing to be flattered. ‘You are very apt with your compliments, my lord.’
The smile deepened in Adam’s eyes. ‘Do you imply that I am not sincere? I assure you that you are quite mistaken.’
Annis flicked him a look. His whole attention was focussed on her in a manner that was decidedly disconcerting. She looked away.
‘Oh, men offer compliments when it suits their purpose! I could not have worked as a chaperon for so many years without realising that fact, my lord.’
Adam grimaced. ‘You are a cynic, ma’am, as no doubt a chaperon should be. I expect it helps you sort the genuine suitors from the rakes when you are trying to make a match for your charges.’ He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a challenging look. ‘Let us test your assertion. What is my purpose tonight?’
Annis frowned a little. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You said that men offer compliments when it suits their purpose. So what was my purpose in complimenting you?’
Annis looked away, vexed to realise that she was blushing. She had the feeling that she was straying towards dangerous ground here and was not going to be lured into offering a view. She gave Adam a reluctant smile.
‘As to that, I have no notion.’
Adam shifted slightly. ‘I think that you do. You suspect that I want something and am therefore making myself agreeable.’
Annis laughed. ‘I apologise. I was judging on past experience, my lord. Most gentlemen try to charm the chaperon if they are interested in her charges. Perhaps you are looking to marry and are wanting an introduction to the Misses Crossley, Lord Ashwick?’
Adam kept his face straight. ‘I thank you, but no. They do not interest me. You, on the other hand, Lady Wycherley, are a different matter.’
Annis kept her lips tightly closed and vowed to make no more unwary comments that evening. Adam Ashwick was altogether too quick to take her up on them. And Adam, who evidently knew to a nicety when to leave matters in his dealings with the fair sex, smiled slightly and turned the subject.
‘Did you enjoy Miss Mardyn’s dancing tonight, ma’am? I am not entirely sure that Harrogate was quite ready for the experience.’
Annis smothered an unexpected smile. ‘I found it very imaginative, my lord. I can see why Miss Mardyn is so popular.’
There was an answering smile lurking in Adam Ashwick’s eyes as he took in all the things that Annis had carefully omitted to say.
‘I believe that we have The Death of Captain Cook after the interval,’ he said. ‘That should be something of a contrast. Will it be melancholy, do you think?’
‘Almost certainly,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘If your taste runs to something more classical, my lord, you might wish to return next week, for I believe Mr Jefferson will be appearing in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Or is Shakespeare too sober for you?’
‘On the contrary, I like a good tragedy,’ Adam said easily. ‘However, I am not entirely certain that I shall be here next week. I have business at Eynhallow, my estate towards Skipton, and shall be back and forth to Harrogate during the next month.’
‘Of course,’ Annis murmured. She had forgotten that the Ashwick estate bordered her own land at Starbeck. Starbeck could scarcely aspire to be called an estate, for it was too small, and almost entirely surrounded by its more powerful neighbours. There were the Ashwicks and then, of course, there was Samuel Ingram’s property at Linforth.
‘I understand that your cousin has property in the same direction,’ Adam continued. ‘That charming little house at Starbeck is his, is it not?’
Annis smiled slightly. ‘Starbeck is mine, my lord,’ she said, aware of the hint of pride that crept into her voice. ‘Charles administers the property for me, but it belongs to my branch of the Lafoy family.’
For a second Adam looked surprised. ‘Does it, indeed? But I thought—’ He broke off, a hint of speculation in his eyes.
Annis raised her brows. ‘What did you think, my lord?’
