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* * *
‘Well, Mary, did you enjoy your ride today? It has certainly brought the colour to your cheeks.’
Mary smiled at Mrs Bentinck’s remark when she entered the drawing room before dinner that evening and she replied quite truthfully that she had indeed enjoyed her outing.
‘And how did you find the earl?’ asked Mr Bentinck. ‘Was he as cold and unsociable as last evening?’
‘Every bit,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘Apart from one brief exchange he barely said a dozen words to me the whole time.’
They had not actually ridden together, he had made a point of keeping his distance for most of the ride, but she had been aware of his presence and had enjoyed knowing he was there. A little too much, if she was honest. The fact that they had hardly spoken to one another meant at least that there had been no chance for them to quarrel.
Mary was surprised and not a little shaken by the thought. Why should she not want to fall out with the earl, if they held opposing views? Heavens, could she be developing a tendre for him? She was far too old for that, surely? It was immature schoolgirls who became infatuated with a gentleman without any knowledge of his character, his thoughts or opinions, not sensible ladies of four-and-twenty. As Mary settled down to her dinner she had the uncomfortable suspicion that she was neither as mature nor as sensible as she had thought.
* * *
Randall and his sister returned to Somervil in silence. Hattie might have been tired from her ride, or anxious about the gathering rain clouds, but Randall suspected she was cross with him because he had not played the sociable gentleman she wished him to be. This was confirmed when they returned to the house and met Theo crossing the hall. He greeted them cheerfully.
‘Ah, there you are, Harriett. Did you enjoy your ride, my love?’
‘I did,’ she replied. ‘But I am going to tell Robbins to dose his master with Tincture of Spleenwort. Justin is decidedly liverish today.’
‘I am decidedly not.’
Harriett rounded on him.
‘You hardly said a word while we were out and you virtually ignored Mary. I was mortified.’
Randall ushered his indignant sister into the morning room. Theo followed and shut the door upon the wooden-faced servant in the hall.
‘You deliberately set out to be odious!’ fumed Harriett.
‘No, I set out to enjoy the ride. It was never my intention to entertain anyone.’
‘Mary is not anyone, Justin, she is my friend!’
‘All the more reason not to raise false expectations, then.’
‘There is very little chance of that,’ snapped Harriet. ‘She must think you quite the rudest man she has ever met.’
Randall frowned at her. ‘My life is in the army, Harriett. Women—ladies—play no part in it and never shall. You should know better than to play matchmaker with me.’
‘I was not,’ she protested, not very convincingly. ‘But I would have you be kind to Mary. It has not been easy, since her parents died, and although many would not approve, she is determined to earn her living in the best way she can.’ His brows rose and Hattie said impulsively, ‘Let me tell you about her?’
‘No. Harriett, I have neither the patience nor the inclination to be kind to your charitable causes.’ He paused and tried for a milder tone. ‘I have deliberately not spoken of Miss Endacott to you, nor have I made any enquiries about her, because I know that should I do so, your immediate reaction would be to start planning a wedding. And in this instance you must know better than I that Miss Endacott would not be a suitable match.’
‘She is no longer a part of our world, but her birth is perfectly respectable—’
‘Enough!’ Randall barked out the word and silence fell. He sighed, saying more gently, ‘Hattie, I am off to Brussels to meet the greatest threat to this nation that we have ever faced. I have no time for dalliance.’
Theo touched his wife’s arm, saying in his gentle way, ‘Let him be, my love. Your brother is about to go to war, his mind will not be distracted by such frivolities.’
Randall was grateful for Theo’s intervention, but his brother-in-law was not entirely correct. Randall was distracted by Mary Endacott. Uncomfortably so, which was why he had deliberately avoided her during their outing. There was no denying she rode well and looked extremely attractive on horseback. Her plain russet-coloured habit might be made of serviceable twill, but it did nothing to hide the curves of her body. He had been obliged to keep his eyes from her, and having spoken with her the previous evening he knew how easily she might draw him into conversation, so he had kept his distance for most of the ride.
Harriett was regarding him in reproachful silence and his conscience stirred. He would be leaving in a few days and did not wish to fall out with her.
He gave a wry smile. ‘I behaved badly, Hattie, I admit it. Forgive me.’
She pursed her lips, not completely won over. Theo chuckled.
‘I have never heard Randall make such a handsome admission before, my dear. You would be wise to accept it, I think.’
‘Oh...oh, very well. But I hope you will be a little more courteous when the Bentincks come to drink tea with us.’
Randall said nothing, reluctant to commit himself, and when Harriett suggested they should change out of their muddied clothes he was glad to make his escape.
* * *
A night’s reflection did nothing to restore Mary’s peace of mind and after breaking her fast in her room she went off for a long walk, hoping to regain her equilibrium before facing her hosts. Her favoured route took her past Somervil, where she was in the habit of calling upon Harriett, but knowing that the earl was in residence she set off in the opposite direction, preferring to take the rocky path through the woods rather than risk running into him.
Her strong attraction to Lord Randall at their first meeting must have been due to the amount of wine she had consumed that night. She had not considered herself inebriated, but there was no doubt that Mr Bentinck’s cellars were well stocked and the quality of the wines superb, so in all likelihood she had imbibed more than usual during the course of the evening. It was easily done, she knew, especially if one was anxious or distracted and there was no doubt that she was anxious, about her business, her finances and the long journey ahead of her. As for distraction, the presence of Lord Randall in the Bentincks’ drawing room had certainly caught her attention.
It was not that she had thought him the best-looking man in the room; tall, lithe men with handsome faces bronzed by the sun had never attracted her before. She preferred intelligent, cultured men. Scholars. Indeed, she had always considered hawk-like features such as Lord Randall’s to look a little predatory.
Nor was it his title—she despised the power that rank and wealth conferred upon a man, the inbred certainty that he might behave exactly as he wished, however badly. Perhaps the attraction was those blue eyes that seemed to burn into her. Or his deep, mellifluous voice. Whenever he spoke she was aware of its resonance and when he was addressing her it was as if he was running a feather over her skin. Even over deeply intimate places. Just the thought of it sent a delicious shiver running through her.
Perhaps she was becoming an old maid. She had observed how elderly ladies could turn positively skittish in the presence of a personable gentleman. They would simper and fawn over him in the most embarrassing way. Was that what was happening to her? She stopped, aghast at the thought. Good heavens, did she have so little self-respect that she was prepared to make a fool of herself over a handsome face? It must not be.
She pulled her pelisse a little closer and set off again, striding out purposefully along the track beside the stream. She would not allow herself to become such a figure of fun. She was an intelligent woman with more strength of character than that.
Anxiously she thought back over her ride yesterday. Thankfully she had done nothing, said nothing to show herself infatuated. Indeed, she had barely spoken to Lord Randall and when they had parted he had not rushed to help her dismount, but remained on his horse and at a distance, as if eager to get away. In fact, looking back, he had done nothing at all to win her good opinion.
‘So the attraction is all on your part,’ she told herself. ‘And you would do well to nip it in the bud, since it can bring you nothing but trouble.’
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed the discomfort she felt in walking until it became positively painful. Something was rubbing against her left foot with every step. Coming upon a fallen tree trunk on the edge of the water, she sat down to investigate. The cause of the pain was soon discovered, a piece of grit had lodged itself in her boot. It had not only worn a hole in her stocking but had rubbed away the soft skin at the side of her foot, which was bleeding and throbbing painfully. How she had come so far without noticing it was a mystery. She looked around to make sure she was alone then removed her ruined stocking and dipped her bleeding foot into the stream. She gasped a little as the cold water rushed over her inflamed skin but after the initial shock she found the cool stream very soothing.
While her foot was soaking she picked up her discarded footwear. The brown half-boots were almost new so she was relieved to find the soft kid bore only the slightest trace of blood on the inside. They were so comfortable she planned to wear them on the long journey home, so she was very thankful they were not ruined.
Mary pushed aside the skirts of her walking dress and began to dry her foot on one of her petticoats. It was then that she heard the unmistakable sounds of hoofbeats. Someone was approaching.
‘Lord Randall!’
‘Miss Endacott. Can I be of assistance?’
Mary’s heart sank. Why did he have to come upon her when she was sitting with her dress pulled up over her knees? Her instinct was to shake her skirts down to cover her ankles, but after taking so much care to keep the blood from her gown it would be foolish to pretend there was nothing wrong.
‘I have a cut on my foot,’ she explained, trying to be calm, as if she was quite accustomed to exposing her leg to a gentleman. ‘It is only a small cut, so please do not...’
Too late. He had jumped down from his horse and was coming over to her.
‘Let me see it.’
‘No! It is nothing, I assure you. You do not need to trouble yourself.’
He ignored her protests and dropped to his knees, taking her heel in his hand. Mary kept very still and concentrated upon her breathing, which had become very erratic.
She said, with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘Thank you, my lord, but I do not wish to keep you from your ride. I am about to put on my boot—’
‘Nonsense,’ he said crisply. ‘It is still bleeding and needs to be bound up. Allow me.’
He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and shook it out. Mary wanted to protest, but somehow the words died. His touch was sure and gentle, and a pleasant lassitude stole over her as he quickly folded the handkerchief into a bandage and wrapped it around her foot.
‘There, that should hold.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘However, your boot will not fit over it.’
‘Oh.’ Mary tried to drag her thoughts away from how disappointed she was that he was no longer cradling her ankle. ‘Oh, well, I—’
The earl handed her the empty boot.
‘I shall take you home on Pompey.’
Before she could protest he swept her up and placed her sideways on the pommel, then he himself scrambled up into the saddle. Mary felt herself blushing as he pulled her back against him.
‘There,’ he said. ‘You are perfectly safe.’
Safe in the sense that his arms were either side of her and she could not fall off, but she had never been so close to a man before, apart from her father, when she had been a little girl and he had pulled her up on to his knee. Now she felt the earl’s hard thighs pressing against her. She sat bolt upright, clutching at her empty boot and fighting the temptation to lean back and rest her head against his coat. As they rode off she noted that her bloodied stocking was still lying beside the stream. She said nothing. It was ruined, so there was no point in going back for it.
It was strange, thought Mary. Everything seemed much more intense than when she had been walking this same path only minutes earlier. Then she had barely noticed the bluebells and wild garlic that carpeted the ground, now the sight and the smell of them filled her senses. The sun shone more brightly through the budding trees and the birdsong was even louder and more joyous. It made her think of spring, and poetry. And love. She pushed the thought aside. She despised such sentimentality.
The earl made no effort to converse, but neither did he squeeze or fondle her. She began to relax.
‘I suppose I must thank you, sir, for rescuing me. It would have been a long walk back.’
‘I would do the same for any lame creature. Although if it was Pompey who had lost a shoe I should be obliged to walk with him rather than ride.’
She said unsteadily, ‘Are—are you comparing me to your horse, Lord Randall?’
‘Pompey is very valuable, Miss Endacott.’
He sounded perfectly serious and she stole a glance up at him. He was staring ahead, his countenance sombre but she had the distinct feeling that he was laughing at her. As if aware of her regard he looked down and she saw the glimmer of a smile in the depths of his blue eyes, like a sudden hint of gold at the bottom of a deep pool.
She dragged her eyes away. It could not be. This was Lord Randall, the stern soldier, a man completely without humour, Hattie had said so. But that look unsettled her.
‘If you put me down here, sir, there is a little gate in the palings that leads directly into the Bentincks’ garden. I need not trouble you to take me any further.’
‘It is no trouble, Miss Endacott. Pompey can easily take the extra weight, I assure you.’
Mary discovered that it was possible to want to laugh and to be angry with someone at the same time. She tried her firmest voice.
‘I think I must insist, my lord.’
‘But the gates are in sight. I shall deliver you to the door.’
Mary looked down. Pompey was a very big horse and it was a long way to jump. That is, if the earl did not tighten his arms and prevent her from escaping.
She said angrily, ‘Lord Randall, I find you odiously autocratic.’
‘And I find you annoyingly independent.’
She put up her head.
‘I am very proud of my independence,’ she told him. ‘I own my own house and my establishment is much sought after. It is patronised by some of the foremost names in the land.’
‘I am sure it is. But none of that is going to make me put you down so you can hobble back to the Bentincks and risk doing more damage to your foot.’
She ground her teeth.
‘I think it fortunate that you are a bachelor, sir. Your manners would not endear you to any woman.’
‘Then we are in accord, Miss Endacott. That is the very reason I remain single.’
Mary was so surprised by his answer she could think of nothing to say. Thankfully they were almost at the door, where her cousin was waiting for them.
‘I saw you from the drawing-room window,’ Mrs Bentinck declared. ‘What on earth has happened?’
‘Miss Endacott has injured her foot.’ The earl dismounted and lifted Mary into his arms, depositing her neatly on the doorstep. ‘Since she could not fit her boot over the bandage I brought her home. It is nothing to be anxious about, ma’am. Once the foot is bathed in salt water and a sticking plaster applied she will be able to walk on it again.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Mrs Bentinck put her arm about Mary, saying in a distracted way, ‘But Mrs Graveney invited us all to take tea with her this afternoon at Somervil House.’
‘There is no reason why you and Mr Bentinck cannot come,’ he replied. ‘Although I am sure my sister will understand if Miss Endacott feels the need to lie upon her bed for the rest of the day.’
The earl gave them a brief nod and nimbly remounted his horse, riding off without a backward glance. Mary’s hands clenched around the hapless boot and she longed to hurl it after his retreating form. As if she was such a weakling that she must needs take to her bed over such a trifle.
* * *
Randall resisted the urge to look back. He felt sure that Mary would be looking daggers at him. He felt a smile tugging at his mouth: what was it about the woman that made him want to tease her? He rarely teased anyone. It was childish, but Mary Endacott made him feel like a callow youth again. Perhaps it was her independence, her determination not to seek his good opinion. That was unusual—he was far more used to females using every trick they could to attract him. She was the only woman he had met who considered he was right to remain a bachelor, although she could not know the true reason he would never marry.
After watching his mother lose her bloom while the old earl amused himself with a succession of mistresses, as well as the women at Chalfont Magna, Randall was determined never to inflict such a life on any woman. He had grown up with the conviction that one should marry for love, though heaven knew where that sentiment originated. But how could he insist that his wife should love him when he could not guarantee to be faithful to her? Like father, like son. Had he not proved, years ago, how alike they were? No. he would remain a soldier. That was a life he understood, a life he could control.
* * *
Mary pulled a clean silk stocking carefully over the sticking plaster on her foot. It barely hurt at all now, but she had decided she would not go to Somervil that afternoon. She had preparations to make before her departure, she did not have time for such a frivolous occupation as tea drinking. Harriett would understand.
And you will not have to see Lord Randall again.
‘All the better,’ she said aloud.
It will demonstrate to the world that you are the weaker sex.
‘It will demonstrate that I have the intelligence not to place myself in a position of danger.’
