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‘Would you meet me here, about this same time tomorrow? If those gentlemen’s behaviour does seem suspiciously beguiling, you’ll know I was telling the truth. I can return to London, then, reassured that you believe me and are forewarned. Could you do that?’
He watched her as she weighed his request, almost visibly ticking off the pros and cons in her head. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed.
‘Good. But when we meet tomorrow, bring your maid, even if Molly can’t abide accompanying you on your sketching excursions, since you either walk too fast, or dawdle for ever. Don’t go wandering by yourself in the gardens, either.’ He grinned at her. ‘You never know what sort of ruffian you might encounter.’
Relieved, and far more eager to see Lady Alyssa again than he should be, Ben handed her back the box of pastels she’d set on the ground, and strode to the lane to reclaim his horse.
He felt her speculative gaze on him as he rode away.
* * *
Lady Alyssa Lambornne certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when conscience had compelled him into this mission, he mused as he directed his horse towards the village. From Denbry’s description, he’d thought she’d be meek and mousy, the sort of shy, self-effacing creature who would never make a good impression on the Marriage Mart. As each year ticked by and she remained unwed, failing to achieve the only respectable occupation most women could hope for, she’d have become ever more anxious, apt to embrace even an unequal match to attain the respectability of marriage.
Instead, he’d found her uncommonly intelligent, self-possessed and confident, with a truly exceptional talent for drawing. As he’d not told her, far from being a mousy, he’d found her alluringly attractive. With a fat dowry and that physical magnetism, how had she managed to remain unmarried?
Perhaps because most men wanted a conventional and biddable wife, and were put off by the untamed aura she radiated?
It certainly appealed to him. He let the image of her play across his mind...soft lips, full breasts and deliciously rounded hips. The alertness in her body and the feral intensity of her gaze hinted of a passionate nature, barely covered by a thin veneer of civility...
Desire fired up again and he fought it. Despite her age and that illusion of restrained passion, Lady Alyssa was undoubtedly an innocent. The voice of self-preservation nattered in his ear, warning that he’d never engaged in the dangerous pastime of beguiling innocents and it was no time to start. That way led to the altar and he was neither interested, yet, in confining his interactions with females to a single specimen, nor had he attained the position he felt a woman he’d admire enough to marry would deserve in a husband.
And if he were truly honest, having witnessed the misery and deprivation a blighted love had caused his mother, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to care that much about anyone.
He should therefore be extremely circumspect in his dealings with Lady Alyssa. Though she herself appeared to have little interest in entangling a suitor, that unusual attitude was almost certainly not shared by her family, who would probably much prefer her to put down her sketch pad and embrace the role of wife and mother. At her age, even the natural son of a viscount, a man who’d not yet achieved a superior position in the world, might be acceptable to them.
He had to laugh. Her family would have to be desperate indeed to consider a bastard son good enough for the daughter of an earl.
But he could risk seeing her one more time, before prudence dictated he distance himself. To make sure she was taking proper steps to protect herself. And, he admitted, for the simple pleasure of talking with this most unusual lady.
Anticipation filling him, he rode back towards the inn on the outskirts of the village where he’d engaged a room. He’d enjoy the fine fare at the Rose and Crown, while away the evening playing cards in the taproom and look forward tomorrow to meeting again the unexpectedly compelling Lady Alyssa Lambornne.
Chapter Two (#uccf27540-6928-52ce-81ee-e602b51f1bb8)
For a long time after Mr Tawny rode out of sight, Alyssa stared off in his direction, her mind turning over his almost unbelievable story—and marvelling at his potent masculine appeal. The whole episode still seemed incredible, but the evidence he presented was so convincing, she was almost forced to believe him, even if it was dismaying to admit she’d been made the means to exact an unprincipled revenge.
Unless she were to awake and find all of this had been only an incredible dream, there seemed no other explanation but that Mr Tawny was exactly who he said he was and what he’d told her was true. If so, by coming to warn her, he’d committed a selfless act.
Too bad he wasn’t one of the ‘beguiling suitors’. Since she didn’t intend to marry anyway, it might be worth being ‘ruined’ to be seduced by him.
Desire stirred within her at the thought. She hadn’t been so attracted by a man in a very long time. Though she was still a maid, her experience of passion limited, she had no difficulty identifying—and appreciating—the reason for the heat that had flamed through her body when she’d first looked into his eyes.
A reaction that distracted her from observing him with her normal artist’s dispassion while he stood looming over her, his countenance so arresting she couldn’t make herself look away.
She recalled the startled moment when she’d first seen him, his broad shoulders blocking the ray of sunshine piercing the forest canopy, haloing his tall, well-muscled form and gilding the edges of his dark brown hair. Handsome, with a look of command about it, his lean face had a sharp nose, prominent cheekbones and the faint trace of a scar running from the left temple down almost to his jaw. Keen eyes the colour of an emerald illumined by sunlight held her gaze captive; his firm mouth looked made for kissing, that impression reinforced by a voice that was deeply pitched, almost—bedchamber intimate. When he’d held her gaze without flinching—his unexpected appearance and powerful attraction making her forget to drop her eyes modestly, as Mama kept instructing her—she’d felt so strongly drawn to him, she’d almost gone into his arms.
With his handsome face, virile body and shiver-inducing voice, she had no difficulty at all believing he was ‘a man of great address with the ladies’.
Though his sudden appearance had certainly startled her, she’d not felt threatened. Which was a curious response, given the venal character and violent tendencies of the men of her family. She should have felt an immediate wariness; instead, there’d been something about him that drew her. Continued to draw her, even after the shock of her first, intensely physical response faded.
Her usual reaction to the arrival of a visitor was to escape before Mama could call for her, or, if caught, get away as quickly as possible. Ben Tawny had evoked the opposite response; she’d wanted him to linger.
As they talked, that strong initial attraction still humming between them, his appeal expanded to include admiration for a man who would take so much trouble to safeguard a woman he didn’t even know. A man of intelligence and strong principles, who exuded a sense of purpose and a quiet competence.
A self-confidence, too, as if he felt easy in his own skin. He possessed the same sort of calm self-assurance that Will had, she realised, that conclusion followed with the inevitable pang of grief.
No wonder she’d felt so drawn to him.
It occurred to her that, not only had he learned about her, he knew her maid’s name, the fact that Molly didn’t like to accompany her on sketching excursions and why. What a clever intelligence-gatherer he was, indeed!
He ought to appear competent. Only look what he’d discovered about her and the other members of the house party, and in such an unusual manner! She couldn’t think of anyone else who could have managed such a chameleon-like performance.
She could easily believe he’d been an intelligence-gatherer for the army. She knew for certain he’d been to Oxford, joined a group of like-minded reformers who aspired to Parliament and achieved that ambition. What had he done, since joining the Commons? Her family having little interest in politics, she didn’t know much about what went on in government, though even she had heard vague rumblings about a new Reform Act. Were he and his group moving that forward?
Was the man who’d accosted her, in fact, Benedict Tawny? With no acquaintance present to introduce them, she had only his word for it. Though she couldn’t think of a good reason why someone else would pose as the man and come to warn her of a pernicious plot.
Was there any way she could make sure he was who he said he was? Asking Mama if she knew anything about a Mr Benedict Tawny would only result in a grilling about why she’d suddenly developed a most unusual interest in a gentleman to whom she’d never been presented. Besides, Mama knew few politicians, and by his own admission, Mr Tawny didn’t appear at society functions, which would be the only place her mama would encounter him.
Perhaps she could talk to Lord Fulton. Though he was not, to her knowledge, involved in politics, he’d certainly know more about Parliament and the Reform movement than any of the females present.
At the prospect, she felt a rise of eagerness and anticipation.
Mr Tawny was not only the most attractive gentleman she’d met in a very long time, he was the only one who’d aroused her interest and excited her curiosity. Although she was unlikely to ever see him again after tomorrow, she was suddenly very glad she’d agreed to meet him.
In the interim, she’d attempt a little intelligence-gathering of her own.
Anger stirred out of the ashes of humiliation. While she plumbed Lord Fulton about Mr Tawny, she’d also encourage the attentions of Rossiter and Quinlen and try to work out the dimensions of their plot.
Those dissipated, idle men might think to make her the target of their ploy, but she no intention of playing into their hands. In fact, she thought, their intended manipulation calling up her ever-simmering fury and resentment at her father’s strong-armed control over her life, perhaps she could try to turn their stratagems against them. If they counted on her being naïve, persuadable and desperate to capture their interest, she could count on them to be arrogant, sure of their superior cleverness and too unobservant to see anything but what they expected to see.
Despite their ill intentions, she wouldn’t attempt to ruin their lives, even if she could. But she’d have no regrets about exploiting their scheme so they, rather than she, ended up surprised and embarrassed.
The steady burn of anger reinforcing that intent, she gathered up her art supplies and headed back to Dornton.
* * *
Alyssa had hoped to return to the manor and change into more presentable clothing while her mother was at breakfast. Unluckily, as she tiptoed back into their bedchamber, she found Lady Aldermont still at her dressing table.
‘Sorry I slept so late, darling,’ her mother said—before catching a glimpse of her in the dressing table’s mirror. ‘Merciful Heavens, child!’ she said with a gasp. ‘Wherever have you been, wearing that hideous old gown?’
‘Just sketching, Mama. It was still very wet after yesterday’s rain and I didn’t wish to soil any of the lovely dresses you brought for me. None of the guests were up, so I got out and back without being seen.’
‘Sketching, always sketching,’ Lady Aldermont said fretfully. ‘If only you’d paid a fraction as much attention to the things that really matter during your London Seasons, we wouldn’t be reduced to attending this dreary series of house parties in dismally remote locations!’
‘I know you hate being out of London,’ Alyssa said, suppressing a guilty pang at the knowledge that it was the chance to sketch in different areas of England that prompted her to press for attending the ‘dreary series of house parties’.
‘At least in town, there’s visiting and shopping and a variety of company. Here, we are condemned to see the same faces day after day.’
Putting down her supplies, Alyssa walked over to pat her mother’s hand. ‘Has Lady Sutherland been plaguing you?’
‘Insufferable woman!’ Lady Aldermont cried. ‘If she’s not crowing about the brilliant marriage her eldest made, snagging the Duke of Wessex, she’s waxing eloquent about the beauty and accomplishments of Lady Alice. All this said with pitying glances at me.’
Alyssa sighed. ‘I know what a disappointment I’ve been to you, Mama.’
Though that was patently true, her mother seized her hands. ‘Of course you haven’t, my darling! Well, I do wish some gentleman—some eligible gentleman—had caught your eye after your come-out. I still think it most unwise that your Papa refuses you another Season, for I know he wishes you to wed and the selection at these smaller parties is so limited! It just grates on me when I see those empty-headed chits celebrated, when you, who are far more accomplished, are overlooked!’
Little brown wrens are always overlooked when there are beauteous swans about, she thought. Her mama had been one of them, the most beautiful, sought-after and well-dowered maiden of her debut Season, thirty years ago. Alas, though she’d inherited her mama’s short stature, she’d not received the golden hair, the arresting face or the summer-sky-blue eyes that had inspired suitors to write verses in her honour and propose in droves.
‘There’s no accounting for the taste of gentlemen,’ she said, giving her mama a kiss. ‘Why don’t you pick out your favourite of my new gowns for me to wear?’
Mentioning fashion was guaranteed to redirect her mama’s thinking into more cheerful channels. Brightening, Lady Aldermont said, ‘Yes, I will! Several of the gentlemen have been paying you a flattering amount of attention; we must inspire them to continue!’
And it certainly hasn’t been because of my charms, Alyssa thought, frowning as she remembered Tawny’s warning.
‘Surely, my dear, out of all the single men about, you might find one to your liking. Is it so wrong of me to want to see you wed and settled, with a house of your own and children?’
Alyssa noted her mother wasn’t hypocritical enough to add ‘happy’ to that description—her mama’s own marriage having given her little reason to expect wedded bliss for her daughter. ‘You never give up hope, do you, Mama?’
‘It would be so much better, if you could find a kind man you could tolerate as a husband,’ her mother said coaxingly.
‘Better than living under Papa’s thumb,’ she admitted. In the face of her father’s stern, tyrannical rule, her mother had always been too timid to please him, she too rebellious. Or rather, she had tried to please him when she was little, before she realised earning his approval was impossible. Since the incident three years ago, they’d regarded each other with active hostility.
‘But if I married, my new husband would get control over Aunt Augusta’s money, so I still wouldn’t be able to use it for what I want.’
The ability to live independently and pursue her heart’s calling.
‘Yes, but you would have friends and society around you—rather than being alone and isolated in that cottage you talk about! And you know Papa will not let you use the funds for that. Only think of the scandal, an earl’s unmarried daughter living all on her own!’
Alyssa sighed, unable to dispute the truth of that. With her father named a trustee on the fund, unless she married, she’d need his approval to access the money. As of now, she’d not figured out a way to convince him to allow her to set up a separate household, which is why she had not, yet, approached him with her intention to do so.
‘I expect I shall devise some way to bring Papa around. In any event, with luck, he’ll predecease me.’
‘I don’t know,’ her mama said. ‘The Lambornnes are distressingly long-lived.’
Sadly, Alyssa had to admit the truth of that daunting observation. Would there still be time for her to make a life for herself and accomplish the work that drove her, if she truly couldn’t begin until after Papa died?
She must come up with a better alternative than waiting for the Earl of Aldermont to cock up his toes.
First, though, she needed to deal with this despicable wager.
Due to Mr Tawny’s unexpected appearance, she’d not finished her drawing today. Over the summer, she had completed twenty more watercolours and needed only a few more to be able to contact Mr Waterman in London about putting together that colourised book of English birds he’d expressed such enthusiasm about to Will. If she could just get her hands on her money, so she might travel to the more remote regions and finish the final sketches before the deadline he’d given...
With Will gone, she’d need to find someone else to approach the publisher on her behalf, she thought, the familiar, sharp wave of grief sweeping through her.
I will finish the sketches and get them published, as you would have wanted, she silently promised him.
Then Molly was back, fitting her into one of the explosions of lace, ribbons and ruffles her mama so adored. Since, in her opinion, the enormous sleeves and ballooning skirts made her look ridiculous—almost as wide as she was tall, she’d overhead one malicious maiden remarking—it was fortunate she had no desire to attract any of the eligible swains gathered for this party.
Tapes and pins secured, she told her mama, ‘I’m going to stop by the library. I’ll see you in the drawing room.’ Giving her mother a kiss, she hurried out before Lady Aldermont could object.
* * *
Hoping to catch her host before the party gathered in the parlour, Alyssa slipped down the stairs. As she entered the library, the latest London paper caught her eye. Which, quite fortuitously, carried a lengthy story on the progress of the Reform Bill.
Snatching it up, she scanned the article. It seemed the bill, having passed the Commons in late September, was sent on to the Lords. Contrary to the expectations of its supporters and an agitated populace, instead of winning approval in the upper house, the Lords Spiritual—upper clergy who had votes in that hereditary body—summoned enough members to defeat it. The result had been riots in many areas of the country and Lord Grey pressing the King to prorogue Parliament so a new session could be summoned in December.
Not until the very end did she find what she sought: a list of the most prominent members of the Reform committee. Which included all four of those Oxford friends she remembered her brother calling ‘Hadley’s Hellions’: Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar—and Benedict Tawny.
She’d just finished the article when her host walked in. ‘Lady Alyssa!’ he cried, halting in surprise on the threshold.
She rose and curtsied. ‘Lord Fulton, I hope you’ll forgive my invading your library.’
‘Of course, my dear. Can I assist you with something?’
‘I was just reading the latest London paper. Have you followed the debate on the Reform Bill? There’s quite a lengthy article.’
He gave her an odd look. ‘That’s not a topic generally of much interest to ladies.’
‘Truly? I found the discussion fascinating! Are you acquainted with any of the movement’s leaders?’ she asked, tapping the list in the paper. ‘I find myself wondering what manner of man would support such a...drastic initiative.’
‘I’ve not been much involved, myself,’ he admitted, gazing down at the names she indicated. ‘Hmm...all four of them outsiders from society, which might explain their radical views.’
‘Outsiders? In what way?’
‘Hadley, the son of the Earl of Telbridge, was estranged from his father for years, after his father divorced his mother, but they’ve recently reconciled. David Tanner Smith...quite the scandal there! A commoner, he recently shocked society by marrying the widowed Duchess of Ashedon, though he is, it must be admitted, a good friend of her family. Lattimar...father is Lord Vraux, although it’s well known that’s not his real father. Five children and probably only the eldest was sired by the baron! Benedict Tawny...not sure I know that name.’
Before she could suppress her disappointment, he said, ‘Now wait, I do remember. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, but his father, Viscount Chilford, later took him up and sponsored him in Parliament.’
‘Does he resemble his father in appearance—is that why the Viscount decided to recognise him?’ she probed.
‘Chilford’s a member of my club. Can’t say as I’ve met the son, but I’ve heard the boy favours him. Tall, dark-haired, green eyes. Quite a magnet for the ladies. A group of rogues, all in all.’ Lord Fulton chuckled. ‘M’wife would blister my ears for repeating such scandalous gossip to an innocent like you!’
‘I’ll not mention we spoke of it!’ Alyssa promised as she tucked away the details.
Tall, dark-haired, green-eyed and a magnet for the ladies?
The description certainly fitted! Desire fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the gaze that had held her spellbound. That final bit of evidence was enough to convince her that the gentleman in the woods had in fact been Benedict Tawny.
Pleased to have elicited so much information, she said, ‘I’ve disturbed your peace long enough. Thank you, Lord Fulton!’
Bidding her host good day, Alyssa walked out to join the rest of the party.
* * *
The scrutiny of both the ladies and gentlemen who turned to inspect her as she entered immediately made her conscious of her new attire. In comparison, the style Alyssa found so unflattering on her short form only emphasised the tall, elegant figure of the waspish Lady Sunderland’s daughter, Lady Alice. With her lovely face, sky-blue eyes and golden curls set under a wide-brimmed hat, she looked like the illustration of perfect maidenly beauty from the latest lady’s fashion magazine.
Which made it all the more suspicious that, rather than lingering with the other men beside the Paragon, as soon as she entered, Quinlen and Rossiter hastened over to her.
‘Lady Alyssa, at last! The party was dreadfully dull until you appeared,’ Quinlen said.
