Carola Dunn (12 page)

The secretary dined with them. Over a succulent sirloin with new peas and asparagus, the gentlemen discussed Wellington’s victory at Waterloo and what was to be done with the fugitive ex-Emperor of the French. Claret flowed freely.

When the table was cleared the secretary took himself off to write some letters. Matthew accepted a glass of port, then set it down after one sip. Now that they were private he wanted to discuss his situation with Lord Ilfracombe, but he was not sure how to introduce the subject. Gazing into the rich, tawny depths of the wine, he wished for inspiration.

“How is it you have taken up architecture again?” asked his lordship helpfully. “I thought it a mere pastime while you were convalescent.”

“So it was, but everything has changed. My uncle has disowned me.”

“Lord Stone? Devil take it, Matthew, he’s been a second father to you these dozen years. What have you done to turn him against you?”

Matthew took a fortifying gulp of port. “You may have heard about a certain race down St. James’s Street?”

“With your ladybird in a wheelbarrow?” Ilfracombe grinned. “Yes, and I wished I’d been there. It was a nine hours’ wonder in the clubs, as I’m sure you are aware. Liverpool nearly fell into an apoplexy trying not to laugh. Don’t tell me Stone took such a lark amiss? I had not thought him so straitlaced.”

“I daresay he might have thought the whole thing a good joke had the news not arrived when he was laid up with an attack of dyspepsia. As it is, he took exception not so much to my want of propriety as to my having wagered a couple of hundred on the outcome.”

“I understood you won.”

“I did,” Matthew confirmed glumly. “Uncle Horace considers that to risk so much on so uncertain an outcome shows that I have no notion of the value of money. So to teach me a permanent lesson he has changed his will in favour of Cousin Archibald.”

“Archibald Biggin, the canting evangelical? Good gad! I thought he couldn’t stomach the fellow.”

“He never could, but I suppose the dyspepsia has altered the condition of his stomach.” His
bon mot
failed to cheer him. “The result is that I am altogether cut out of his will. You were one of my trustees; you know how my father left me. There’s enough to live on, just, but I hope to supplement my income by taking up architecture seriously.”

“An excellent notion.” Lord Ilfracombe nodded and refilled Matthew’s glass, which he had emptied without noticing. “I shall naturally recommend you to all of my acquaintance. However, I daresay it will take some time to develop a following. Of course I shall pay you at once for your work, but if there is anything else I can do for you in the meantime, you must not hesitate to ask.”

“If Uncle Horace has been a father to me, you have been a favourite uncle,” said Matthew gratefully. “I am hopeful, though, that my other scheme will soon come to fruition.” He frowned, thinking of Jessica’s recent coolness. “There do seem to be some unexpected complications.”

“You have a second string to your bow? That’s wise. What is your other scheme?”

“To marry a rich bride. Aunt Caroline suggested it.”

“I refuse to believe that Miss Stone advised you to become a fortune hunter!” The earl sounded furious.

“Well, not precisely. She was joking. She did not intend that I should set out deliberately to woo an heiress.”

“But that is what you have done? Caroline always was wont to see the best in people, and you were always her darling. She was scarce out of the schoolroom when your mother died and she took her place,” he added with a hint of bitterness.

Ignoring his irrelevance, Matthew hastened to dispute his lordship’s conclusion. “I don’t mean to marry only for money, I promise you. But it was convenient to come to Bath, and there was no harm in hoping that I might meet a pleasant young lady who happened to be wealthy. And I have!” he exulted. “Jessica Franklin is beautiful and witty and altogether enchanting, and her brother owns vast estates in the North, and...”

“And she knows your circumstances and loves you in spite of them?”

“Well, no. You could hardly expect me to go trumpeting around Bath that I’m no longer Viscount Stone’s heir. Of course I shall tell her before I ask her to marry me.”

“Thus breaking the girl’s heart, perhaps, when she realizes you courted her for her money. I did not think you capable of such deceit.”

Matthew took another draught of port to drown his guilt. “You don’t understand. I’m in love with Jessica, heels over head, and I know she likes me. But if she finds out now,” he said desperately, “before I can fix her affection...”

“Don’t worry, I shan’t give you away—for the present.” There was deep disapprobation in his lordship’s tone. He hesitated, brow wrinkled in thought. “I believe it will be best if I remain in Bath for a while to keep an eye on the situation. I shall do what I can for you, Matthew, but I warn you, if I decide that this young woman is in danger of being hurt, I shall not hesitate to act.”

“Thank you, sir. I would not hurt her for the world—” he dropped his head into his hands “—but I realize I am not in any position to make you believe that!”

* * * *

“Who is that distinguished-looking gentleman with Mr. Walsingham?” asked Kitty Barlow.

“I haven’t the least notion,” said Jessica sharply. She did not care for the implication that any companion of Matthew Walsingham’s must be known to her. However, she could not resist following Kitty’s gaze with a quick glance. The Pump Room was crowded on the first fine morning after days of rain, yet she picked out Matthew’s tall figure instantly.

“That’s Ilfracombe,” Lord Peter answered Kitty’s query. Such unwonted volubility was becoming commonplace in Miss Barlow’s undemanding presence and Jessica scented a match.

At present she was more interested in Lord Ilfracombe. As an old family friend he must surely know the truth about Matthew’s position. She wished she could just ask outright and set her doubts to rest. That course being unthinkable, she contented herself with favouring him with a sunny smile when Matthew introduced him.

“How do you do, my lord. May one hope that your arrival in Bath indicates your interest in Mr. Walsingham’s designs for your hunting box?”

He looked amused at her bluntness, his searching expression lightened by a smile. He was attractive, she thought, not tall but strongly built, his figure that of a younger man than the steel-grey at his temples and the lightly etched lines in his face proclaimed. In his mid-forties, perhaps; that would fit in with what Matthew had told her of him.

“I am more than interested. Miss Franklin,” he replied. “I have every intention of using Matthew’s plans. I understand the sketch that proved the deciding factor was of your workmanship?”

“My drawing influenced you in his favour?” Delighted, Jessica beamed at Matthew. His answering smile seemed oddly relieved.

“It did, ma’am. Being inexpert in reading plans, I could not have pictured the building without it. You are talented.”

“Thank you, sir. I have never attempted such a thing before, though, as I told Ma—Mr. Walsingham, I like to draw buildings because they do not move.”

Lord Ilfracombe laughed. She decided she liked him and happily introduced him to Nathan and Lucy, who came up at that moment. Lucy was struck dumb, but the earl stood chatting to Nathan while Jessica satisfied Kitty’s curiosity about her drawing of the hunting box.

Bob Barlow arrived with Maria Crane and Annabel Forrester. Miss Crane promptly turned her fluttering eyelashes on Lord Ilfracombe. He parried her coquetries with amused indulgence. However, when the subject of that evening’s assembly in the Upper Rooms arose, it was to Jessica that his lordship first turned with a request for a dance. Flattered, she accepted with alacrity.

Now why, she wondered, should Matthew cast his friend a glance both reproachful and dismayed? He must have noticed her coolness this past week—that would explain also his relief when she showed an interest in the success of his building designs. She did not want to hurt him, and she certainly had no intention of refusing to stand up with him, as he quickly requested. Of course, she also promised dances to Mr. Barlow, Lord Peter, and Nathan.

On the other hand, Matthew went on to engage Kitty, Maria, Annabel and Lucy to dance with him, so perhaps he was not so cast down at Jessica’s aloofness as she hoped.

Bother the man! He had her so confused she didn’t know what to hope for!

When she saw Lord Alsop approaching, though, she had no doubt of her feelings: relief that she was already engaged for every set at the assembly. The baron’s cold eyes were on Lucy, and Jessica saw that Nathan was at that moment speaking to Miss Forrester. She moved towards her friend.

Lord Alsop bowed. “Miss Pearson, may I beg the pleasure of standing up with you at the Upper Rooms tonight?”

“Oh, my lord, I... I’m not sure....” Lucy stammered in her soft, shy voice.

“Your card is full, is it not, Lucy?” Jessica interrupted. “I fear, my lord, you are too late.”

He was not so easily deterred. “Are you quite certain, Miss Pearson, that you have not a single set free?”

Since Lucy was obviously not at all certain, Jessica was relieved when Nathan swung round, realizing at last that something was amiss.

“Miss Pearson is engaged for the entire evening, sir,” he said, his voice cool but civil. “I have kept a count for her since she has not her card with her.”

The baron cast him a look of venomous dislike, but Jessica saw that Nathan was aware only of the fervent gratitude in Lucy’s brown eyes. The momentary silence among the four of them was broken by Maria Crane’s invitation:

“Mama says that if the weather is still warm tomorrow we shall have our sketching picnic at Beechen Cliff at last. I do hope you will all come.”

Kitty Barlow accepted with instant enthusiasm. “Oh, yes, I am sure Mama will let me go, do you not think so, Bob?”

“We are to have a contest for the ladies,” Maria explained to Lord Ilfracombe. “Will you be judge of who draws the best perspective of Bath, my lord?”

“By all means, ma’am,” the earl agreed. Jessica heard him mutter to Matthew, “If I cannot contrive to please all parties, I don’t deserve my seat in the Lords!”

“Rather you than me,” Matthew murmured, laughing. He turned to Jessica. “Do you go. Miss Franklin?”

“Yes, we shall go, shall we not, Nathan?” She was ridiculously pleased that Matthew had asked her before accepting the invitation on his own behalf. “Lucy, I’ll go with you to ask Mrs. Woodcock.”

As she and Lucy moved away, she heard Lord Alsop’s smug voice, “I shall be delighted to join you, Miss Crane. Pray allow me to put my carriage at your disposal.”

Lucy clutched Jessica’s arm. “If he is to go, I do not care to,” she

Jessica sighed. “Maria cannot have noticed that he was with us when she issued her invitation, and then it was too late to withdraw it. I am sure she dislikes the wretched man as much as we do. You cannot always avoid him though, Lucy. Do come to the picnic. Nathan will be sadly disappointed if you don’t, as shall I, and between us we shall protect you from Lord Alsop’s horrid wiles.”

“I always feel quite safe with Sir Nathan,” Lucy admitted. “He is so very kind and he always knows just what to say. I was afraid I should have to dance with Lord Alsop tonight.”

“That’s the trouble with the public assemblies in Bath as opposed to the private balls in London.” Jessica recalled that her companion had failed to gain entrée to the exclusive Society of London. “I mean, there are so many entertainments there that one could simply avoid a party where one knew someone unpleasant was going to be, without giving up parties altogether.”

“I should not mind giving up parties. I prefer a quiet evening at home, just family or a few close friends. How delightful it must be to live at Langdale, where your nearest neighbours are miles away.”

“Well, yes, I love Langdale, of course. But I must confess I thoroughly enjoy dancing and concerts and plays, too. I am very glad we came to Bath.”

“Oh, so am I,” cried Lucy. “Otherwise I should never have met you... nor Sir Nathan.”

And that, agreed Jessica silently, would have been a great pity. If only Nathan fell deep enough in love with Lucy to ignore the fact that her father was in trade—and to dismiss his scruples about fortune-hunting!

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I warned you.” Laughing, Jessica looked up at Lord Ilfracombe. “The foreground is acceptably rendered, and the nearer part of the town most accurately detailed, but where everything begins to merge with distance I simply cannot do it justice.”

“If nothing else, you win the prize for honesty. Miss Franklin.” He sighed. “I daresay I ought to take a look at the other young ladies’ efforts.”

“Certainly you must.” She was flattered by the earl’s unwillingness to leave her side. He had singled her out from the start of the expedition up Beechen Cliff, to the evident annoyance of Maria Crane and Annabel Forrester. And last night, at the assembly, he had vanished into the card room after a single dance with her.

“My lord!” Maria’s patience was at an end. He rose politely from his seat on the bench as she approached, sketch book at the ready. “Here is my drawing for your appraisal.”

Jessica also stood up, turning away from the view of the town to look back to where Mrs. Crane’s picnic was set out invitingly in the shade of the beech trees, with the chaperons already seated at a folding table. As she started towards the array of rugs and hampers, Matthew came to meet her.

“I am judged and found wanting,” she told him.

“He hasn’t seen the others yet. Let me see.” He took her sketch book and found the place. “Hmm, I daresay one could put a name to every street and a number to every house in the middle ground. But why have you drawn clouds in the sky? For once there’s none to be seen.”

“Those are hills, not clouds. Look, there are trees growing on them.”

“Oh, I thought those were birds.” He grinned at her. “You take the first prize for architectural excellence, though. Come and have some cherries.”

“I need something more substantial than that. Drawing birds and clouds is hard work.” She seated herself on a cushion and arranged her skirts.