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Chapter Two
‘Damn it, Jenkins—’ the Marquis of Bollingbrook glared at his valet ‘—I am not yet in my dotage. When I ask for brandy, I do not wish it to be mixed with water!’
His valet’s face wore a martyred air, for, having served his master, man and boy, he was not like to resent his outbursts of temper. Especially since he, above anyone at Bollingbrook Place, understood the pain behind the anger.
‘Begging your pardon, milord,’ Jenkins said, ‘but it was Dr Heron as told me your lordship ought not to drink so much.’
‘Damn his impertinence and yours,’ the Marquis said with a grunt of displeasure. ‘Pour a smaller measure if you will, but do not ruin the damned stuff!’
‘No, your lordship.’ Jenkins retained his impassive stare. The Marquis was prone to severe bouts of painful gout, which another, more critical man might have considered a judgement for his sinful past—sins that had haunted the older man for too long. Jenkins, however, was devoted to his master, besides being privy to secrets that others did not share. ‘It shall not happen again.’
‘See that it doesn’t.’
‘I am sorry, milord.’
‘No need to be sorry.’ A weary smile settled over the old man’s features. He knew that of late he had become almost impossible to live with. There had been a time when he was a very different man, but he had lived too long trapped in the pain of his memories. ‘Damned if I know how you put up with me, Jenkins. It’s a wonder you haven’t walked out before this. I’ve driven my family away. None of them visit me these days.’
The Marquis had fathered three sons, all of them by different wives. He had been unfortunate in losing the last of them, a beautiful young lady many years his junior. She too had died shortly after childbirth from a putrid chill. The Marquis had not been the same since her death. However, the loss of his youngest son had almost finished him.
‘Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I retired, sir,’ Jenkins answered in the same flat tone as before. ‘Can’t blame your family for not visiting. You lost your temper and banned them from the estate the last time.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Bollingbrook growled. His foot was causing him excruciating pain and there was nothing to be done about it. ‘But I didn’t mean her, damn it!’ A look of regret came into his eyes. ‘Caroline is the best of them all. She is very like her, do you not think?’
Jenkins understood perfectly. ‘Yes, very like, my lord. You could write and invite her to stay…’
‘Her mother and aunt have taken her to London,’ the Marquis muttered. ‘Had a letter from that wilting lily last week. Damned if I know what Holbrook ever saw in her. I blame her for his death, you know. Another woman might have steered him to a safer path instead of weeping buckets in her bedchamber! Still, water under the bridge now.’ He glared at his valet. ‘I won’t have Caroline forced into a marriage she doesn’t care for. I suppose her mother is feeling the pinch. That is my fault, of course. Should have done something for her. I ought to have done something for Tom before this.’
‘Why not invite him here?’ Jenkins suggested, braving his master’s fierce stare. He knew him too well to quail in his boots, though others had been known to flee before such a look. ‘If I may take the liberty, milord? Send him to town to look after his sister. He can keep you informed on her situation.’
‘Excellent notion,’ the Marquis agreed. ‘He’s not as weak as his mother, though I prefer Nicolas. Full of spunk, that lad! However, Tom is Holbrook’s heir, so I must do something for him. Bring me pen and ink, if you will. I shall write the letter now.’
Jenkins obeyed, setting the well-used, mahogany writing slope on the Marquis’ lap, as he sat in his high-backed chair before the fire.
‘Is there anything else, milord?’
‘Not for the moment. I shall ring for you later.’
Left to himself, Bollingbrook opened the secret drawer of his writing slope and took out the miniature of his third wife. Angelica was the only one he had loved, though there had been many women before her, some of them acknowledged beauties, but none at all had followed her. He had loved her dearly, and believed that she would survive him for she had been so much younger. She had been the delight of his life, and when he’d lost her he had wanted to die and to be buried in her grave with her. Only her dying wish had prevented him from taking his own life.
‘Look after our son; look after Anthony,’ she had whispered as she lay slowly wasting of the putrid fever. ‘Love him for my sake, I beg you.’
He had loved Holbrook for her sake and his own—and he loved Caroline too because she was so like his lost wife; she had the same vitality, the same brave heart. For the rest of his family he had scarcely any affection. He disliked his eldest son, Sebastian. He thought it a damned silly name, and would have disinherited him if he could, but would find it difficult to break the entail. He liked Claude slightly better, but not enough to want him to visit.
The Bollingbrook estate must go to his eldest son by law, and Claude must have the London property. He had lived there for years and it would not do to put him out. Yet he had some money and property that had not come to him through the estate and was his to dispose of as he pleased. He would divide it equally between Caroline and her brothers. He should have done it before, but it was still not too late. Despite the constant pain, he was sound of mind and there were a few years left to him yet.
Caroline dressed in a green-striped carriage gown. At least she had been allowed to choose this for herself, she thought with some satisfaction. She knew the colour suited her and she was pleased with her appearance as she went downstairs.
Louisa Taunton was still in her room, but she knew of and approved Caroline’s engagement to go driving with Mr Bellingham that morning. She had given her permission without hesitation.
‘He will no doubt bring his groom with him. However, it is quite respectable to drive out unaccompanied with a gentleman of Mr Bellingham’s reputation. I have known him for some years, and a more likeable gentleman could not be found, I am sure.’
‘Yes, Aunt. I thought you could have no objection to the outing. He is a gentleman of good taste, would you not say?’
‘Indeed,’ her aunt replied and looked thoughtful. ‘But he has no immediate prospects of a title. It is unlikely it will happen—there are several cousins before him—whereas Sir Frederick will undoubtedly inherit his uncle’s title, as the present marquis has no living sons or grandchildren and he is not likely to marry again at his time of life.’
‘I think I prefer Mr Bellingham,’ Caroline replied, ‘should he take an interest—but I do not think we should count on it just yet, do you?’
She spoke innocently, yet with a look in her eyes that her aunt suspected. Lady Taunton was no slowtop and she was well aware that her niece resented her interference.
‘I am only reminding you of possible options,’ Louisa said tartly. ‘I believe that Sir Frederick might be on the catch for a wife, whereas Mr Bellingham is unlikely to marry. Everyone knows that he is too set in his ways.’
‘Is that so?’ Caroline asked sweetly. ‘Well, I dare say there may be others, Aunt. We must be patient, must we not?’
‘You are impertinent, miss,’ Lady Taunton said with a sour twist of her mouth. She thought that if Caroline were her daughter, she would have beaten some of that sauciness out of her long ago. ‘Do not ruin your chances to spite me, Caroline. You may get less than you imagine, despite your success so far.’
‘Oh, I do not let such foolishness weigh with me,’ Caroline replied. ‘I dare say I shall be fortunate to receive any offers at all.’
‘Well, you will make a push for Sir Frederick if you have any sense,’ her aunt said and dismissed her with a wave of her hand.
Caroline was not sure why it should make her so out-of-reason cross that her aunt was trying to influence her decision. As yet, of course, there was no decision to be made, for she was barely acquainted with any of the gentlemen she had met. Perhaps it was her aunt’s eagerness to rush her into marriage for the sake of a fortune that she found so distasteful. It had soured what might be simply a pleasant acquaintance. She shook her head, thrusting the irritating thoughts to the back of her mind as she heard someone arrive at the door.
The footman opened the door to admit Mr Bellingham into the elegant hallway. He was looking extremely fine in his blue coat and pale grey breeches, a beaver hat now removed from his fair curling locks. His face lit up as he saw her descending the stairs, clearly ready to accompany him.
‘Good morning, Miss Holbrook. May I say how charming you look?’
‘Thank you, sir. We have a beautiful day for our drive, do we not?’
‘Very pleasant. There is a slight breeze but it is quite warm.’
They went outside to where his curricle stood waiting, his groom at the horses’ heads. Drawn by a pair of fine greys, it was a smart affair with yellow-painted spokes to its wheels, and Caroline felt privileged to be taken up by him. He handed her up himself and then took the reins, the groom jumping up behind.
During the drive to Hyde Park, they made polite social conversation, but once they were within the park, they turned to poetry and books they had both read. From there it was an easy matter to progress to other pursuits they enjoyed.
‘Do you ride much at home, Miss Holbrook?’
‘As often as I can, before breakfast if the weather is good. My father put me up on my first pony almost as soon as I could walk—and of course I rode with Nicolas most days. I miss him greatly now that he has joined the army, but I know that it was what he wanted.’
‘Nicolas is the younger of your brothers, I believe?’
‘We are but eleven months apart in age. My elder brother Tom manages the estate, of course. I am fond of Tom, but it was Nicolas with whom I shared so much.’ She laughed as she recalled some of the naughty escapades that had landed her in hot water when she was younger.
‘Yes, I see,’ George said. ‘It is natural that you should feel closer to Nicolas with him being so near in age.’
‘It is more than that.’ A husky chuckle escaped her. ‘Nicolas was sometimes a little high-spirited, and he encouraged me to do things of which my governess did not always approve. We escaped our tutors together, and he always shouldered the blame as much as he could, though I confess that the ideas for our adventures were not always of his making.’
George smiled inwardly. Her laughter was infectious and he thought her enchanting. She seemed to have no fear of speaking out, though some of her revelations might displease the old tabbies who considered themselves the arbiters of good taste and decorum.
‘You were fortunate in having such a companion, Miss Holbrook. I, on the other hand, was an only—’ He broke off as he saw who was approaching them on foot. ‘There is Freddie. I think we must pull over for a moment…’
Caroline made no comment. She knew that he could not neglect to acknowledge his friend, but would have preferred to drive past with a polite nod. Something about Sir Frederick Rathbone unsettled her, whereas she was perfectly comfortable with Mr Bellingham.
‘Good morning, George—Miss Holbrook.’ Freddie’s dark eyes dwelled on her face. With that flame of hair peeping from beneath her chip-straw bonnet, which was tied with green ribbons to match her gown, she was certainly a beauty. She would not lack for suitors, he thought, and wondered why the idea of her being pursued by all the young bucks should be slightly irritating. ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Holbrook?’
‘Very much, sir, thank you. I have seldom seen a finer pair than Mr Bellingham’s greys.’
‘You haven’t seen Freddie’s fine chestnuts,’ George said, generous to a fault. ‘Miss Holbrook is a great rider, Freddie, and a judge of horseflesh. You must take her up in your phaeton one of these days. I am sure she would enjoy it.’
‘Oh, yes, I should,’ Caroline said without pausing for thought. ‘Nicolas let me drive his phaeton sometimes, and we once raced a friend of his around the estate…though perhaps I ought not to have said so? I believe it might be frowned upon by some?’
‘You have just damned yourself in the eyes of the old tabbies,’ Freddie said, amused. Her way of confiding in one was attractive, for she did it with such innocence that one could not help being charmed. ‘But fear not, Miss Holbrook. Neither George nor I shall betray you.’
‘Thank you,’ Caroline replied, a faint blush making her look touchingly vulnerable for a moment. That was the second time he had said something of the sort. Had he taken her in dislike? She lifted her head defiantly, meeting his gaze. ‘I think my tongue will land me in trouble one of these days. I should learn to curb it, but it runs away with me.’
‘No, no,’ Bellingham assured her, but Sir Freddie remained silent. His silence made her feel that he disapproved of her and that made her want to challenge him. For why should he censure her? She had done nothing outrageous, and his manner had pricked her pride. ‘Though you might offend the tabbies without meaning to.’
‘Who are these tabbies?’ Caroline asked innocently, though she was well aware of their meaning. Her eyes were bright with mischief, bringing a laugh from George and a thoughtful look from Freddie. ‘Please do tell, for I am all at sea.’
‘You are a minx,’ Freddie told her and now there was a hint of amusement on his lips, which caused her heart to flutter oddly. ‘I think you mean to tease us, Miss Holbrook. George, I shall not keep you. I am certain you are wishing me to the devil.’
‘Not a bit of it.’ George smiled. ‘All is fair in love and war, they say. I shall see you later at White’s…’ The words died on his lips, for at that moment Caroline gave a little cry and jumped down from the carriage, lifting her skirts clear to avoid stumbling as she ran across the grass. ‘What the devil is she doing?’
Sir Freddie did not answer—he had seen what had caused Caroline to risk life and limb and dash off so suddenly. A youth was tormenting a puppy, kicking at it cruelly, and the creature was yelping with pain. Without reference to George, he set off after her, arriving just as Caroline rounded on the youth in a fury.
‘How dare you?’ she cried as the animal cowered away from yet another blow. ‘Stop that at once or I shall teach you better manners, sir!’
‘What yer gonna do, then?’ the youth asked, leering at her. He was a dirty, ragged boy and his face was smeared with dirt. ‘Can’t stop me. Master told me to get rid of it—and he’ll kill me if I go back with the flea-ridden brute.’
‘Then go back without it,’ Caroline said. ‘Touch it again and I shall have you beaten!’
‘Yeah? How yer gonna do that, then?’ the youth asked, squaring up to her. He lifted his fist as if he would strike her, only to have his arm caught in an iron grip. Looking up, his face turned white beneath the dirt and his eyes darted to Caroline in fear. ‘Call him off, miss. I weren’t gonna hurt yer.’
‘No, you certainly were not,’ Caroline said, head up, eyes glittering. ‘For I should have hit you with my parasol. Let him go, sir.’ She addressed Freddie in a tone of command. ‘He may run back to his master and say what he will. This poor thing shall not be tortured again.’ Turning her back on them as though neither were of the least importance, she did not notice Sir Freddie give the youth a sharp clip of the ear before sending him off. Caroline was on her knees beside the puppy, stroking its head softly as it whimpered and shrank away from her hand. ‘Oh, you poor little thing. He has hurt you so, but he shan’t do it again—no one shall, I promise you.’
‘The creature may well have fleas as well as broken bones.’
Caroline turned to look up at Freddie. ‘The fleas are a matter of indifference to me, and may soon be cured with a warm bath—the broken bones are a different thing. He must be looked at by someone who understands these things and then…’ She faltered, for she had suddenly remembered that she was a guest in her aunt’s house. Lady Taunton would not welcome a bedraggled puppy in her home. ‘He is not the prettiest dog, perhaps, but he deserves to be cared for, do you not think so?’
Freddie bent down and picked the puppy up carefully. He ran gentle hands over its quivering body, but, though it whimpered at first, it seemed to quieten at his touch.
‘I believe he likes you,’ Caroline said. ‘Do you think—?’
‘Oh, no,’ Freddie said instantly. ‘I do not wish to be saddled with a mongrel—and he most certainly has fleas.’
‘I was going to ask only if you could direct me to a place where I can arrange for him to be cared for until I can claim him. I can pay for his keep and when…when I go home he shall come with me.’ Her eyes were bright and filled with unconscious appeal that placed him on his mettle. Freddie struggled and lost. She saw it in his eyes and gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I promise I shall claim him as soon as I can.’
‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I shall take charge of the wretched thing—but only until you can find a home for it. I have several dogs at home and they would make mincemeat of the creature. It can go to my stables. The grooms will know what to do for it.’
‘You are generous, sir. I am grateful.’
‘The dog remains your responsibility,’ Freddie said gruffly, for something in her look had touched him. ‘You should be aware that your dress has become stained, Miss Holbrook—and I would advise you not to throw yourself down from a carriage so precipitously in future. George was about to move on and you might have been injured.’
‘What can that signify?’ Caroline asked with a toss of her head. She bent her head to kiss the puppy’s neck. ‘Please take care of him, won’t you?’
‘I have never neglected any animal,’ Freddie said a trifle haughtily. ‘I do not think you need fear for this one.’
‘No, of course not. And thank you for your assistance, though there was no need. I should have hit him if he had tried to attack me.’ Her eyes flashed defiantly.
‘Next time I shall remember,’ Freddie said, a flicker of amusement in his face. ‘I think you should go now, Miss Holbrook. George’s horses begin to fret.’
‘Oh, yes, I had forgot,’ Caroline said and flushed. ‘I did not mean to sound ungracious—thank you.’
She ran towards the waiting curricle and was handed up by George while his groom held the now impatient horses.
‘You know you owe your good fortune to her, don’t you?’ Freddie murmured, scratching the puppy behind its ear. It had now settled in his arms and he was inclined to optimism about its condition. Painfully thin, it had obviously been starved, but with some good food and care… ‘Ridiculous!’ he said aloud, causing a passing lady to stare at him. ‘I do not know who is the greater fool.’
Freddie stood watching as his friend drove on by with a wave of his hand. The girl was an original, there was no doubt of it. She would either become the latest rage or fall foul of some sharp tongues. It would be interesting to watch her progress.
He was not likely to be caught in her toils though, he told himself. She was lovely, intelligent and lively, and it seemed that she was both brave and compassionate, but he was not in the market for a wife. Though Miss Holbrook had certainly enlivened what had looked like being a damned dull Season before her arrival. He tipped his hat to a passing acquaintance, deciding to visit the club of a certain pugilist he favoured after he had handed the puppy to his groom. He was feeling oddly restless and in need of some exercise before he kept his appointment with George later that afternoon.
Tom Holbrook frowned over the letter from his grandfather. He had not been expecting it, but he was not averse to visiting the old gentleman. He had never been afraid of Bollingbrook, as some of his cousins were, though he had thought it wise to hold his tongue. The Marquis had a volatile temper, and had never hidden his dislike of Tom’s mother.
Left to his own pursuits with nothing but a pile of debts to keep him company, Tom had been thinking that he might take a trip to town and visit his mother and sister. It would not bother him to make a small detour to visit his grandfather. The Marquis had said there was a matter of business to discuss, which did not sound promising. It was quite likely he was to be taken to task for putting up a part of the Holbrook estate for sale, but there was little else he could do in the circumstances. Tom had been forced to sell or risk losing everything, for his father had made some foolish investments.
He instructed his valet to put up a travelling bag for him and send his trunk on, and then had his groom bring round his curricle.
Within three hours of receiving the letter from his grandfather he was walking into Bollingbrook Place. It was an old house, but both the building and grounds were immaculately kept, which Tom knew must be expensive. The estate was clearly flourishing. Tom had not given much consideration to it in the past, but now he wondered where his grandfather’s money came from.
‘Master Tom, it’s good to see you, sir,’ Jenkins said. He had just come into the hall as the footman opened the door and smiled his approval at the young man. ‘Milord wasn’t sure you would answer his call, but I thought you might—and here you are.’
‘Of course I came,’ Tom said. ‘He threw Mama out with instructions never to darken his door again, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t mean it. How is he, Jenkins? The gout playing him up as usual?’
‘His lordship is in some pain,’ the valet told him, ‘but not as bad this morning as it has been for the past few days. I try to keep him from his port, but you know how it is, sir.’ Jenkins sighed heavily, his long face wearing an expression of extreme martyrdom.
‘I do indeed,’ Tom answered and grinned; he knew the man had much to bear, but he also knew that nothing would prise him from the Marquis’ side. ‘May I go up and see him, do you think? His letter sounded important.’
‘I believe it would do him good to have company, sir. He dwells too much on the past when he is alone.’
‘I’ll go up, then,’ Tom said and nodded to Jenkins as he ran up the stairs. Outside his grandfather’s door, he paused and knocked, waiting until a gruff voice invited him in. ‘Good morning, sir. How are you?’
‘No better for your asking,’ the Marquis grumbled, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, invited the young man to call. ‘Not so bad, thank you, Tom. It was good of you to come to see me.’
‘I had nothing better to do,’ Tom said frankly. He saw shock and then amusement in his grandfather’s face, for it was unlike him to answer so. ‘I was considering taking a trip to London, thought I might escort Caroline to some of the affairs, save Mama the trouble—that’s if she has troubled herself, which I dare say she may not very often.’
‘I take leave to doubt she will do so at all,’ Bollingbrook growled. ‘Featherhead! Still, she produced the best of my grandchildren—the rest of them are a pack of ninnies! I won’t have them here; they argue and whinge and I can’t stand that at my time of life. However, I want to see that gel of mine—Caroline. It’s an age since she was here. I know she’s gadding about town at the moment, and I don’t want to spoil her fun, but I should appreciate a visit when she can spare the time. I want you to tell her that, Tom.’
‘Yes, sir, of course. I shall go up in a few days—that’s if you will put up with me in the meantime?’
‘I hope you won’t run off too soon,’ the Marquis said gruffly. ‘I didn’t get you here just to talk about Caroline. I have some things to discuss with you. It concerns the future—you, Nicolas and my gel. I have been remiss, but I intend to put things right. In fact, I have already had my lawyer here and the thing is done, a day or two back as it happens. It can’t be explained all in a moment. Concerns secrets that most of ’em don’t know—and are not to be told, do you hear me?’
