Author: Wendy Soliman
Category: Historical
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‘You think I am not aware of that?’ Ezra snapped. ‘Sorry,’ he added, waving a placatory hand. ‘It seems I don’t like being told that I’m a dolt. It’s a new experience. No one has ever dared to attempt it before. Well, no one whom I haven’t knocked down for their impertinence.’
‘It’s not impertinent if it happens to be true, Ezra. You can depend upon me to keep you honest,’ Henry replied, his good humour back in evidence. ‘Now, what are you going to do about the delightful Miss Benton to keep her in line.’
Ezra rolled his eyes. ‘What indeed? And in the meantime, you seem to be falling for her cousin.’
Henry gave a passionate sigh. ‘Lady Adele is charm personified.’
‘Well then, it will be no hardship for you to stay close to her this evening. Ask her about her cousin in general terms and let me know if you think Miss Benton has confided in her regarding my own situation.’
Henry gave a mock bow. ‘Anything to oblige.’
‘In that case, keep Lady Walder away from me while you’re at it. I have decided against playing along with her. It’s too much to ask.’
‘Please do not ask me to juggle two women at once, Ezra. At least not in public. There are limits to our friendship, you know,’ Henry shook his head emphatically, sending a cascade of hair tumbling across his brow. ‘You’re on your own with that one. If I was forced to wager, I’d risk my all on her being here for one reason and one reason only; one that has nothing to do with assassins.’ He paused to fix Ezra with a significant glance. ‘And I’m looking at that reason right now.’
‘Perhaps, but I remain to be convinced. Lady Fletcher is barely acquainted with her, but she wrangled an invitation to this party only after she became aware that I would be in attendance. Besides, you said you overheard her name being mentioned in the Royal Oak’s taproom.’
Henry’s expression sobered. ‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I wish I knew.’
Their conversation was brought to an end when dinner was announced. Ezra desperately wanted to take Clio in but knew it would be a bad idea to draw attention to his interest in her. Lady Walder had somehow managed to gravitate towards him without his being aware and he was left with no choice but to offer her his arm. She looked victorious as she sailed into the dining room at his side. Ezra knew that she would not be quelled into silence by his presence in the manner that Beth had been the previous night, and steeled himself for two hours of fending off her flirtatious overtures.
Clio felt uncomfortable for reasons that she couldn’t fathom. Ezra had nodded at her when he walked onto the terrace, looking so suave and self-assured in his evening clothes that the sight of him took her breath away and brought home to her the futility of her fascination with him. She felt hot and cold all over when she thought about the spirited manner in which she had responded to him in their exchanges, speaking to him like an equal.
Perhaps it had been rash of her to run off to the village in a ridiculous effort to protect him, she conceded, even if her intentions had been honest. She accepted a glass of peach ratafia from a footman’s tray and smiled at a comment that Beth had just addressed to her. Dear Beth’s conversation seldom required more than a tenth of Clio’s attention and it was receiving even less than that at present.
‘You seem preoccupied, Clio dearest,’ Beth said, making Clio feel guilty for her wandering thoughts. ‘Has someone overset you? Captain Salford keeps looking at you. He is very handsome and attentive. Mama says you are soon to be married but that you are keeping the captain waiting for your answer, which seems like a risky thing to do. If I had met my heart’s desire then I would not play games.’
‘My aunt mistakes the matter,’ Clio replied absently. ‘I have no amatory interest in the captain, but if I did then I would not toy with his affections. You may rest easy on that score.’
‘In that case, if you have definitely decided against him, then you would be best advised to wait until next year when you are presented. You will then be at leisure to enjoy the attention and choose a husband from all the young gentlemen who show themselves on the marriage mart.’
‘What a delightful prospect.’ But Clio could see that her sarcasm was quite lost on Beth. ‘Mr Adcock keeps looking at you,’ she said. ‘I noticed you spending time with him this afternoon on the archery range and I am sure that your conversation did not centre entirely on the target.’
‘Well…’ Beth giggled behind her fan.
‘Now he is a pleasant gentleman. I haven’t spoken with him very much, but I can see from the bloom that sprang to your cheeks at the mention of his name that you like him.’
‘I cannot deny it,’ Beth replied, fixing her gaze on the toes peeping out from beneath her hem, ‘but Mama is set upon—’
‘Upon your marrying the duke. Is that what you want, Beth?’
‘Yes, of course…’ She let out a long breath. ‘Actually, no. He terrifies me and I have absolutely no idea what to say to him. Mr Adcock on the other hand…well, we talk and laugh and never run out of things to say to one another.’
‘Mr Adcock is entirely respectable—and, I am told, heir to a rich estate. I am sure that my aunt desires your happiness above everything else, so I cannot see how she can object to your liking him.’
‘I did try with the duke but…’
‘But he is a curmudgeon who didn’t take the trouble to put you at your ease.’
‘Oh no, Clio, he did try but I was not a very lively companion, I’m afraid. I was too aware of Mama’s instruction to be myself. You are younger than me but so much more confident. You would not have been similarly afflicted, I am absolutely sure of it.’
‘That situation is never likely to arise,’ Clio said briskly, telling herself that she had not tried to talk Beth out of pursuing the duke because she had ambitions of her own in that regard. She absolutely did not, and even if she did she would be the first to acknowledge their futility. It was simply a case of steering Beth’s thoughts away from a mésalliance of epic proportions and more particularly convincing her cousin that she should put her own heart ahead of her mother’s plans for her. ‘Anyway, it looks as though dinner is about to be announced and your Mr Adcock, unless I mistake the matter, is about to offer you his arm. Accept it, my dear, and enjoy yourself.’
‘You know, Clio, I believe I shall.’
Clio smiled at Beth as she watched her walk away with Mr Adcock. Already they appeared to have a great deal to say to one another. She noticed Adele with Lord Fryer and belatedly realised that she had no escort of her own.
And Captain Salford was hovering like the predatory spider she had started to think of him as.
‘Damn!’ she muttered, adding a few of the choice words she had learned that afternoon while lingering outside the Royal Oak for good measure. She ought to have anticipated that a soldier would plot his strategy and outmanoeuvre her.
‘Clio,’ Salford said, bowing in front of her. ‘It seems that you and I are destined to dine together.’
She wanted to tell him that she would happily go in alone but could see Lady Fletcher watching them and would not for the world be openly impolite to one of her guests. So she placed her hand on the captain’s sleeve with as much good grace as she could muster, which was not a great deal, thinking that at least Adele and Beth would enjoy themselves. She glanced at the duke with Lady Walder on his arm, wondering if his choice was significant. He had told Clio that he had no interest in the lady, but if that was the case, why had he chosen to give quite the contrary impression by taking her in?
‘I understand your reticence,’ the captain said, having helped Clio with her chair and then settled in his own once the last of the ladies was seated, ‘and accept your disinclination for matrimony.’ He allowed a significant pause. ‘At least for now. I cannot guarantee that I will not renew my suit when you have had an opportunity to know me better. I can quite see that I rushed you. I misinterpreted your nature and your spirit…Anyway, my poi
nt is, we have to speak of something for the next few hours. It will look very odd if we do not.’
‘Appearances bother you?’ Clio asked, leaning away from him as a footman filled her glass. She thanked him, picked it up and took a small sip of crisp wine.
‘We are all slaves to social mores.’
‘Are we?’ Clio lifted one shoulder. ‘Personally, I dislike being predictable.’
‘You are very much like your father in that respect. He liked to play devil’s advocate when preparing battle strategy.’
‘The comparison is particularly apt, I think.’ Clio picked up her spoon and savoured a taste of her mock turtle soup. Her aunt’s French chef had, as always, excelled himself. ‘The social rigmarole could well be likened to preparation for battle, what with all the jockeying for the best position, which is not always on the moral high ground.’
‘You do not hold a high opinion of society?’
‘I have seen little of it, but when I come out next year I am sure that I shall be exposed to all its various delights.’
If Clio’s reference to her impending presentation reminded the captain of the futility of his pursuit, as was her intention, he gave no sign. Instead, he smiled and turned to his soup. ‘We shall see,’ he said ambiguously.
‘You shall not see, Captain,’ Clio replied, thinking it important that there be no ambiguity between them. ‘As far as I am aware, it is not you who will be making your curtsey to the queen.’
He looked a little discomposed by her acerbic tone but covered his reaction with another smile. ‘Now there’s a thought.’
Clio was grateful that Beth and Mr Adcock were seated beside her. Mr Adcock ensured that he gave her a good deal of his attention, as was his responsibility, forcing the captain to do likewise with the lady on his opposite side. Clio was thus spared the discomfort of the captain’s scrutiny for much of the meal. That in turn permitted her to send frequent glances Ezra’s way. Lady Walder was holding court, making all the men in her vicinity laugh at her anecdotes. Clio could see that Ezra’s smile was perfunctory and that he was having no better time of it than she herself was. He caught her watching him on one occasion and winked at her, causing Clio’s cheeks to warm.
‘I understand that Lady Walder’s late husband was an officer in Papa’s regiment,’ Clio said when the captain returned his attention to her.
‘He was, and a finer man never drew breath. His death was a tragedy.’
‘All deaths are tragedies.’
‘True, but Walder knew no fear and never asked anything of the men beneath his command that he himself was not prepared to tackle.’
Clio sent him an arch look. ‘Is that not the case with all officers?’
Salford offered her a condescending smile and shook his head. ‘You have never been in the theatre of war, Clio, so you cannot possibly know what you are saying. You should not make the error of judging everyone by your father’s standards.’
Furious to be spoken down to, Clio turned towards him with the sweetest of smiles. ‘Are you suggesting that we breed cowards as officers, Captain? Is that your first-hand experience of the theatre you refer to and if so, do you include yourself and the duke in that category?’
Anger flashed through his eyes. ‘Wickham served with distinction and was mentioned in despatches many times,’ he said grudgingly.
‘And you were not?’
‘I had different responsibilities.’
‘Ah, I see. That would probably explain it.’
‘You cannot possibly understand the complexities of war, and no more should you,’ he said stiffly.
‘Naturally I cannot, as I am but a feeble female.’
Clio turned away from him, glad that Mr Adcock had chosen that moment to address a question to her. She was unsure how much longer she could have withstood Salford’s condescending manner before retaliating. She had not, she realised, made any headway in discovering whether or not he was here with the intention of killing the duke. It was clear that he disliked and resented him but that was a far cry from killing such a man—or indeed any man—for profit and revenge.
A fine sleuth she would make, she thought with a wry smile.
When the meal finally came to an end, Clio was one of the first ladies to spring to her feet. She offered the captain perfunctory thanks for his company and left the dining room close on her aunt’s heels.
‘I hope the captain grows upon you with better acquaintance, my dear,’ her aunt remarked. ‘He is an upstanding gentleman, charming and popular, and a favourite of your father’s no less. You could do a lot worse.’
Clio made some non-committal response and wandered to the side of the room, where Adele had saved her a chair. The duchess happened to be seated close to them but sent them both a dismissive look and didn’t attempt to make conversation. Lady Walder approached her, clearly with that intention in mind, but the duchess rudely turned away and pretended not to notice her.
‘At least she shares my view of Lady Walder,’ Clio said in an undertone to Adele.
‘She clearly does not approve of the manner in which Lady Walder dominated the dining room conversation,’ Adele replied. ‘I have not seen her take much notice of her only remaining son since her arrival. She seems totally taken up by the assiduous attentions of Mr Conway. He would drive me demented with his fussing. However, I dare say she is mindful of the matter of succession. Lady Walder is no longer in the first flush of youth and, I understand, did not give her husband any children.’
‘Which may not be her fault, although equally it could well be,’ Clio replied, nodding her understanding. ‘I don’t think her grace has any cause for concern however. I watched the duke and Lady Walder during the course of dinner and the only person at that end of the table who did not appear animated was the duke himself.’
‘He doesn’t seem to like anyone very much. Certainly not Beth.’
‘He would make Beth miserable. The duke needs a wife who will challenge him.’ Clio smiled and squeezed Adele’s hand. ‘However, that is none of our concern. Tell me instead about Lord Fryer. He took you in for the second evening in a row. That honour is difficult to misinterpret. Clearly he has the good sense to be interested in you.’
‘Well…’ Adele blushed. ‘I suppose his attentions are very apparent, but I am not getting my hopes up. He has asked me to save him a dance.’
‘Excellent! I shall not even complain when you leave me to be presented alone.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
The sound of musicians tuning their instruments in the gallery above diverted their attention. The doors to an adjoining room had been thrown open during the course of dinner and the furniture moved back to make space for the dancing. The sound of male voices and their footsteps echoing off the boarded floor gave notice of the gentlemen’s impending arrival, at which point Clio knew she had lost Adele’s attention.
Keen not to be cornered by the captain again, she stood up and slipped out onto the terrace. It was almost full dark but Clio could still see fairly well, and was familiar with the topography of her aunt’s grounds. She narrowed her gaze when she noticed a flash of red disappearing behind the stables in the direction of the orchard where she and the duke had enjoyed an earlier conversation, closely followed by a man with a military bearing and purposeful stride.
‘The captain and Lady Walder,’ she muttered, bemused. ‘Where the devil are they going?’
Without thinking about the wisdom of her actions she slipped onto the lawns and followed them.
Chapter Eleven
Mark Salford was required to swallow down bile. He curtailed his anger by focusing his mind on the allures of his mistress in order to endure Clio’s scathing looks and pithy retorts during the course of an interminable meal. Damn it, the chit would pay dearly for her impertinence once she had his ring on her finger. She could not possibly be serious in her rejection of him. No female had ever held out indefinitely when he launched a charm campaign. His appeal to the
opposite sex was both a blessing and a curse. They were so damned predictable that the game had lost its appeal. But he still enjoyed the thrill of the chase and Clio had restored his appetite for it, as well as infuriating him, since it was clear that she intended to make him grovel.
So be it.
Battle lines had been drawn, and when it came to conflict there was no better strategist than Mark. He had already won Lady Fletcher over by hinting at a lasting attachment to Clio and the silly woman would now do everything in her power to throw him and her niece together. It shouldn’t have been necessary to depend upon her support but Mark had very compelling reasons to stoop to underhand tactics, his pride be damned.
When the gentlemen had finished with the port, Mark left the dining room directly through the open French doors and made his way briskly towards the orchard beyond the stables. He had an engagement to keep with a lady who did not smile upon tardiness. None of the gentlemen appeared to notice that he had not followed them into the makeshift ballroom. He would join them again before he was missed.
‘My love.’ He pulled Isobel Walder into his arms the moment he reached the agreed spot and found her waiting for him beneath an apple tree. ‘I thought I would never get away.’
He kissed her, enjoying her enthusiastic response and the feel of her supple body pressed against his as his hands roamed over her voluptuous curves. She tasted of wine, strawberries and wild expectations, an intoxicating combination that fired Mark’s lust and increased his determination to overcome Clio’s feeble objections to his proposal. Everything hinged upon her acceptance of it.