A Lady for Lord Randall
Auteur·e
Sarah Mallory
Lectures
16,3K
Chapitres
15
Chapter One
Randall glanced at the clock. Had it only been an hour since they had arrived at the Bentincks’? It felt longer. He was not naturally sociable, preferring the company of a few close friends to parties such as this where the room was crowded with strangers, but he knew he must try to make himself agreeable, for his sister Hattie’s sake. The Bentincks were a cheerful couple whose children had flown the nest and who now liked to fill their time and their house with interesting young people. The problem was, their idea of interesting was not Randall’s. Hattie had explained that the Bentincks’ house would be full of intellectuals, artists and atheists.
‘And tradesmen, too, no doubt,’ he had retorted.
‘They are invited because of their intelligence, not their rank,’ she told him and gave a little trill of laughter when Randall grimaced at the idea. ‘You must come, they will be quite delighted to have an earl, a real live peer of the realm in their midst. And a soldier, to boot.’
‘And does the Bishop approve of you and Graveney attending these parties?’ he had asked her, thinking of her husband, the rural dean.
Hattie’s eyes had twinkled merrily at that.
‘Not at all, but Theo loves to go there, he approaches these evenings with all the zeal of a missionary. As he says, what is the point of always preaching to the converted?’
Observing his brother-in-law across the Bentincks’ drawing room, Randall could well believe it. Theo Graveney was involved in a lively discussion with a group of gentlemen in loose coats and untidy hair. Arms were flying and voices were raised as the debate grew ever more heated.
Randall’s gaze moved on. Most of the guests were writers or scholars, he guessed, his eyes dwelling on one or two shabbily dressed men with ink stains on their fingers. There were no military men present, save himself, the rest of the party being made up of tradesmen, artists and even a couple of French émigrés. They were all gathered in little groups, engaged in animated conversation. There was a smattering of women amongst the crowd, some of them pretty, in a blowsy sort of way, and all giving their opinions as decidedly as the men.
Randall disliked such loud, overbearing society and he had retreated as soon as he could to a quiet corner. He had known how it would be and he should have remained at Somervil. Oh, Mrs Bentinck had greeted him warmly enough, but her first comment had warned him just what to expect from the evening:
‘We are very informal here, my lord, and stand on no ceremony. I shall make no introductions, you must take your chances like the rest of the guests.’
She had carried Hattie away then, leaving Randall to mingle as he wished. But Randall did not wish. With Bonaparte even now marching through France and the country on the verge of war again, he was not to be distracted with idle conversation. His sister came up and handed him a glass of wine.
‘Well, Randall, what do you think of our little gathering?’
‘Little gathering, Hattie? Such a number would be considered a crush even in the Latymor town house.’
‘They travel from far and wide to attend the Bentincks’ soirées,’ she said proudly.
‘That may be so, but it is not to my taste,’ muttered Randall. ‘I am a soldier, plain and simple.’ A shout from the far corner caught their attention and he glanced to where a group of young men were now arguing noisily. ‘I have no patience with artistic tantrums.’
‘Pray do not be tiresome, Justin, there are more than just artists here, and plenty to entertain, if you are not too high in the instep.’ Hattie patted his arm, murmuring as she prepared to move away, ‘You should relax and enjoy yourself, dear brother. You are a man of the world, so I trust you not be shocked by the company we keep.’
* * *
Randall knew he could not stay in one spot all evening and he began to stroll around the room, listening to the conversations, but joining in with very few of them. He had not worn his uniform, but began to think he would have been more at home if he had done so. At least then it would have been plain what his role was and he would not have been asked for his opinion on so-and-so’s latest stanzas, or if he had read some new and profound religious tract. He was wondering how soon he could possibly retire without giving offence when a soft, musical voice sounded at his elbow.
‘You look a little lost, sir.’
He turned, vexed to find himself addressed by a woman he did not know. But he should not be surprised at such brazen behaviour, given the company gathered here tonight. He could not recall seeing her before amongst the crowd, for there was certainly nothing blowsy about her. She was neatly dressed in a gown of cream muslin with her dark hair swept up on her head, unrelieved by ribbons or flowers. She carried herself with an assurance that seemed odd in one so young—she looked about two-and-twenty, the same age as his sister Sarah. The woman was regarding him with a humorous twinkle in her green eyes and he found himself wanting to respond with a smile. Impossible, of course. One did not encourage such persons. Still, he replied more politely that he was wont to do.
‘Not lost. Merely daydreaming.’
‘I have not seen you here before. I am Mary Endacott, I am presently staying here. Mrs Bentinck is my cousin.’
She waited, clearly expecting him to introduce himself.
‘I’m Randall,’ he said shortly, rather taken aback by such forwardness.
Her brows went up. ‘The earl, Harriett’s brother?’
‘You are surprised, ma’am?’
His cold tone should have depressed any pretension, but Mary Endacott merely laughed at him.
‘Well, yes, I am. I would not have seen this as your normal milieu. The company is a little...radical.’
‘I arrived at short notice today.’
‘Ah, so you had no choice but to attend.’
He said carefully, ‘I am very happy to be here.’
‘But you would rather not socialise with us. I have been watching you, my lord, and you do not look to be enjoying yourself.’
‘That is because my mind is occupied elsewhere.’
‘On the forthcoming confrontation with Napoleon, perhaps?’
‘Amongst other things.’
She nodded. ‘It does seem rather frivolous to be discussing art and philosophy when the fate of Europe hangs in the balance.’
‘Just so.’ He glanced at her fingers, which were holding her closed fan. The right hand was folded over the left so he could not see any ring, but she had such poise and confidence that he guessed she was a married woman. He glanced about the room. ‘Which of these gentlemen is your husband?’
‘Oh, I am not married.’ She chuckled. ‘Actually, that applies to a number of the women here tonight, but in my case I am not in a union with anyone, either. Many here are opposed to the concept of marriage,’ she explained. ‘No church ceremony can bind a man and woman together, only love can do that. Love, and a commonality of intellectual interests, of course.’
Her eyes were fixed on his face and he had the impression she was trying to shock him.
‘And is that your conviction, too?’
He had the satisfaction of seeing that his blunt question had discomposed her, but then he was a little sorry when she looked away from him.
‘It is what I was brought up to believe.’
He said, ‘It would require a great deal of trust on the woman’s part, I think, to enter into such a union without the blessing of the church. She would not have the protection of the man’s name.’
‘She would not become his property, either. The current law is a scandalous state of affairs and has serious disadvantages for a woman.’
He inclined his head.
‘Very true, Miss Endacott.’
A female of decided opinions. Not his type at all.
‘Ah, Mary, so you have met my brother.’
He had not seen Harriett come up, but now she linked arms with Miss Endacott.
‘We introduced ourselves,’ he said shortly.
‘I would not have thought that necessary,’ said Harriett. ‘Did you not recognise the nose, Mary? All the Latymors have it, and any number of villagers, too, thanks to Papa. At home one could never walk through Chalfont Magna without encountering at least two of his by-blows. Oh, there is no need for you to look daggers at me, Randall, Mary knows all about our father’s dissolute ways. We are very old friends, you see. We were at Miss Burchell’s Academy together.’
He relaxed, just a little. So the forward Miss Endacott was one of Harriett’s free-thinking school friends.
‘That explains a great deal,’ he murmured.
Harriett’s eyes twinkled. ‘Has Mary outraged you with her radical ideas? Her parents were great admirers of Mrs Godwin—Mary Wollstonecraft—hence her name.’
Miss Endacott chuckled, a soft, warm sound that was very pleasing to the ear.
‘I certainly tried to be outrageous, Hattie, but your brother would not rise to the bait.’
‘Well, you know he is a soldier, and commands a company of rogues, so he is most likely unshockable.’
With two pairs of eyes fixed upon him, two laughing faces turned up to his, Randall felt ill at ease. He gave a little nod and left them. By God, he would prefer to face a charge by French cavalry than these teasing women! He passed Theo, who was at the centre of a group of clerics and rather surprisingly arguing for Catholic emancipation, and moved on to a group of young men who were discussing the Lake poets, but he was thankful when Mr Bentinck came up and carried him away.
‘You do not look to be enjoying yourself, my lord.’
‘I confess I have little in common with your guests,’ replied Randall carefully ‘I came to please my sister.’
‘Ah, yes. Mrs Graveney.’ His host nodded. ‘She may prefer not to be known as Lady Harriett these days but she is very proud of you, you know. She likes the fact that you followed your grandfather into the artillery rather than buying a commission. Well, sir, there are fellows over here whose conversation might be more to your taste.’
Bentinck took him across to a cluster of tradesmen who were eager for news of Bonaparte. Randall stayed for a while, discussing the latest situation and how it might affect their business, before moving on.
The good dinner his sister had provided at Somervil, plus the Bentincks’ excellent wines, were having an effect. Randall felt more relaxed, more able to participate in the conversations, but even as he did so, he found his eyes straying to Mary Endacott as she moved around the room. Her figure was very good and she had a natural grace. He liked the way the swing of her hips set the thin skirts of her muslin gown fluttering in the most alluring fashion as she walked. When she passed close to him he stepped away from the group he was with to talk to her.
‘You are not enamoured of any of the discussions, Miss Endacott?’
‘On the contrary, I find them all fascinating, but a heated debate on theology with Mr Graveney has left me sadly thirsty.’
‘Allow me.’ He accompanied her to the table at the side of the room, where an array of jugs and decanters were set out. He filled two wine glasses and held one out to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am sure you are more used to raising a finger and having a servant wait upon you.’
‘Trying to put me to the blush, Miss Endacott? You will not succeed.’ He followed her to a vacant sofa and sat down beside her. ‘I am a soldier and accustomed to much rougher conditions than these.’
She laughed.
‘Of course you are. Hattie has told me all about Randall’s Rogues, the raff and scaff of the military gathered into one troop. Men it is impossible to place elsewhere. If you had not taken them most would have been hanged by now.’ She sipped at the wine. ‘I do not approve of war, but your efforts in this case are admirable; you have turned them into a formidable unit. From the despatches I read in the newspapers they acquitted themselves well in the Peninsula.’
‘They are all good artillerymen.’
‘Perhaps they have a good colonel.’
Randall shrugged.
‘I demand only two things, Miss Endacott, unquestioning obedience and loyalty.’
She shook her head at him.
‘Loyalty I can understand, but unquestioning obedience? I do not think I could give anyone that.’ She gave a little shrug and smiled at him. ‘Nevertheless, I have to congratulate you on your success, sir. To take such unpromising material and turn them into a crack artillery troop is no mean feat.’
‘A man’s background is nothing to me, as long as he can fight.’
‘But how does one control such men?’ she asked him.
‘Iron discipline. The lash and the rope. When a man joins the Rogues he knows it is his last chance.’
He saw the disapproval in her eyes.
‘That is a brutal way to go on, my lord.’
‘It is necessary. In war a man must know he can rely on his comrades.’
‘I would there were no wars and no need for armies.’
‘That is a dream of all reasonable beings, madam.’
He leaned back, watching the changing emotions flicker across her countenance.
She said a little wistfully, ‘My father was a great supporter of the revolution in France, and of Bonaparte, at first. Papa thought he would uphold democracy, until he proclaimed himself emperor and began to overrun Europe.’
‘Thus, until the world is at peace we shall always need soldiers, Miss Endacott.’
‘We shall indeed. But this is dismal talk, Lord Randall, surely there must be a more entertaining topic?’
‘Yes, you,’ he said, surprising himself, but it was worth it to see the becoming blush spread over her cheeks.
‘No, no, I am not entertaining at all.’
‘Will you not let me be the judge of that?’ She shook her head and looked as if she might leave him, so he said quickly, ‘Very well, what would you like to discuss? Let us agree that I shall allow you to choose the first topic for discussion. You must then allow me my choice.’
She leaned back against the arm of the sofa and regarded him, a faint smile playing at the edges of her mouth.
‘Very well. I would like to know what persuaded the great Earl Randall to attend the party tonight.’
‘That is simple: my sister asked me.’
‘Even though you clearly do not approve of us?’
‘Even so. I am only here for one week and did not wish to spend an evening apart from Harriett.’
‘Hattie always said you were the best of the Latymors.’ She observed his surprise and her smile grew. ‘You must remember I have been Hattie’s friend since our schooldays, Lord Randall. I am aware that your mother, the countess, was outraged when Harriett returned from school with her head full of independent ideas. Our intentions were very much the same, you see. We both wished to make our own way in the world and declared we would never marry. It must have been a relief when Hattie fell head over heels in love with Theophilus three years ago.’
‘It was. Graveney had a comfortable independence and my mother was too relieved to see her daughter respectably married to protest at her new son-in-law’s rather unconventional views.’
Randall was surprised that he should talk so freely. It was not his habit to discuss his family with anyone, but there was an elusive charm about this woman that put him at his ease.
‘Quite...’ she nodded ‘...and they have lived happily in Sussex ever since, unconcerned that Harriett’s family disapprove of the match.’
‘I do not disapprove,’ said Randall mildly. ‘For my part I have no objection to Graveney. He is a decade older than I am and we have little in common, but I like the fact that he has made no effort to ingratiate himself with the family and he is not afraid to speak his mind.’
‘You do not object to that?’ she asked, her brows raised.
‘No, I respect it. And I am content that the fellow can support Harriett and make her happy.’ He paused. ‘Now what have I said to make you smile?’
‘Hattie told me you were very different from the rest of the Latymors.’
‘Oh?’ He stiffened. ‘May I ask what she has said about our family?’
‘She did not imply any criticism,’ she replied quickly. ‘Merely that you are more tolerant than the others. I expect that comes from being a soldier and away so much. I believe your mama, Lady Randall, runs the house and estates at Chalfont Magna in your absence and looks after your younger brothers?’
‘Yes, they are twins and still at Eton.’
‘How old are they now, fourteen? I have no doubt they are very proud of you.’
‘I do not know, I hardly see them. I have been on campaign for most of their lives.’
‘That is very sad, they could learn so much from you. Have you no thoughts of leaving the army and going home, taking your place as head of the household?’
Home. Randall considered Chalfont Abbey. Had he ever felt at home there? His mother ran everything like clockwork and he had always been happy to let her do so. He felt a little spurt of irritation. How dare the woman question him in this way?
‘I have a job to do, Miss Endacott. Perhaps you do not understand that I have a duty to my men and my country.’
‘Of course I understand that, but perhaps, when this campaign is over, you might decide to stay at Chalfont. I am sure your mama would welcome your support.’
‘I doubt it. She has always managed very well without me.’
Even as he said it he was not sure it was true. This last short visit to Chalfont had shown him that she was growing older. She left more of the work to the stewards now.
‘What of the rest of your family? Harriett tells me your oldest sister is in Europe.’
‘Yes.’
‘You do not approve?’
He frowned. This young woman was too perceptive for comfort. He knew he could snub her, but he was enjoying talking to her, more so than anyone else he had met this evening. She spoke again, saying in a reflective voice, ‘From what Harriett has told me about Augusta I am sure she was eager to follow the ton to Paris.’
‘She was and her doting husband indulged her. My mother sent my youngest sister Sarah with them, knowing she would be thrown in the way of eligible young men and hoping she might be induced to accept one of them.’ He gave a little huff of amusement. ‘My mother thinks that at two-and-twenty Sarah is running out of time to find a husband.’
Again Miss Endacott gave that warm gurgle of laughter.
‘Yes, she is practically on the shelf!’
‘But her twin is unmarried—did you know there are two sets of twins in our family?’ he asked. ‘My mother has seven surviving children of which I am the eldest. Our father was very productive.’
His jaw tightened. The old earl had been well known for his insatiable appetite, not just for his wife but for any woman.
‘Yes, I did know Sarah had a twin brother, but when it comes to marriage it is very different for a man.’ Miss Endacott’s voice interrupted his bitter thoughts. ‘Gideon will be free to do very much as he pleases. How is he enjoying his new cavalry regiment, by the by?’
‘I have no idea, he does not correspond with me.’
‘If you will excuse my saying so, Lord Randall, you do not seem a very close family, but I believe that is the way amongst the nobility.’
‘And what do you know of the nobility, Miss Endacott?’
He spoke frostily and saw her visibly withdraw from him.
‘Now I have offended you,’ she said quietly. ‘I had best leave you—’
A moment ago he had been wishing her at Hades, but as she made to rise he put out a hand to stop her.
‘We had a bargain, Miss Endacott.’ The faint lift of an eyebrow told him she would dispute it and he tried for a softer note. ‘Please, ma’am, stay and talk to me.’
The distant look faded from her countenance and she sank back on the sofa, waiting expectantly for him to begin.
‘Do you make a long stay with the Bentincks, Miss Endcaott?’
‘Two weeks only. A pity because I would have liked to see more of Harriett.’
‘Then why not stay longer? I am sure if Mrs Bentinck cannot put you up my sister would be delighted to do so.’
‘She has already suggested it, but it cannot be, I am afraid. Business calls me away.’ She saw his puzzled look and laughed. ‘I am not a lady of leisure, my lord. I have to earn my living. If I were a scholar perhaps, or a poet or an author, then I might remain in Sussex and be busy with my pen.’
‘Oh? Are you in trade?’
That disturbing twinkle lit her eyes again.
‘Why, yes, of a sort. I must get back to my girls or—’ she corrected herself, a mischievous smile lilting on her lips, ‘my ladies, as I call them.’
A young man lounged up and laughingly asked Miss Endcaott to come and support him in an argument with his friends. When Randall bridled, incensed at being interrupted, the lady rested one hand on his arm.
‘You are not used to such freedom of manners, sir, but remember, no one here knows who you are.’ She rose. ‘Forgive me, I had best go, I have spent far too long with you already.’ Her eyes twinkled and she said mischievously, ‘My reputation would be quite ruined, you know, if I had one!’
Randall watched her walk away. He was intrigued. Who in heaven’s name was Mary Endacott? Not a scholar, she had said, but in trade. He regarded her retreating form thoughtfully. She had joined a group of gentlemen and was quite at her ease with them, laughing at their jokes and making a riposte of her own. She was not pretty in the conventional sense, but certainly attractive enough for the gentlemen around her to be captivated.
Some sort of trade. Involving ladies. And she had said she had no reputation to be ruined. Suddenly his sister’s words came back to him: ‘I trust you not to be shocked by the company we keep.’
Good God! His eyes narrowed. Was that what Hattie meant?
* * *
Mary tried to concentrate upon the conversation that was going on around her, but all she could think of was Lord Randall’s blue eyes and lean, handsome face. When she had seen him standing alone at the side of the room she had decided to take pity on him, knowing that the Bentincks’ unorthodox soirée would be a little daunting to a strange gentleman, and this man clearly was a gentleman. At first glance he looked quite slender and it was only when she drew closer that she realised it was his height that made him look perfectly proportioned. She had noted immediately the fashionably short hair—brown and sun streaked—and the exquisite tailoring of his coat. The dark blue Bath superfine fitted across those broad shoulders without a crease, its severity relieved by a white quilted waistcoat and the snowy white linen at his throat and wrists. He would be accustomed to society parties where the guests all knew one another and introductions would be carried out for any newcomer, to make sure their rank was acknowledged and understood. In an effort to put this stranger at his ease she had made the first move, only to have him look down his aristocratic nose at her. He had fixed her with that cool, aloof gaze and informed her that he was Randall, Harriett’s haughty and very proper brother.
Mary remembered the letters Harriett had received from him while they were at Miss Burchell’s Academy. Always short and to the point, advising Harriett of news—their mother’s removal to Worthing for a little sea bathing when she was recovering from influenza, their father’s ill health, his own promotion within an artillery regiment. Nothing chatty, nothing warm or comforting for his little sister miles away from the family home.
A servant had always been dispatched to take Harriett home so Mary had never met Justin Latymor and by the time the girls left Miss Burchell’s Academy he was a career soldier, not even selling out when his father died and he became the sixth Earl Randall. That Harriett was fond of her big brother was beyond doubt. She said he was the only one who had not lectured her upon her marriage to Theophilus Graveney, but Mary had built up an image of a cold, stiff-backed man, lacking in humour.
And so he had been, when she had first approached him. Or should she say accosted him? His tall frame was rigidly upright and he looked so hard and unmovable he might have been hewn from a single oak. He was clearly not accustomed to young ladies introducing themselves. Yet there was a sensitivity around those sculpted lips and there had been warmth and the suspicion of a gleam in those blue, blue eyes when he had spoken to Hattie. She had seen it, too, when he had surprised her by stepping aside to engage her in conversation.
‘You are allowing yourself to be dazzled by a title,’ she told herself sternly. ‘Shameful for one who believes in a meritocracy.’
Yet she could not get the thought of the earl out of her head. It did not help that whenever she looked about he seemed to be watching her. The idea brought an unaccustomed heat to her cheeks. It was so long since she had blushed that she had thought herself too old for such frivolity, but now she found that even at four-and-twenty a young lady could find herself attracted to a man. And not just any man, an earl, no less!
‘Mary, what are you smiling at?’
Mrs Bentinck’s voice brought her out of her reverie. Mary looked up. Her companions were huddled together to read an article in a recent edition of Cobbett’s Political Register, a publication that was known to induce indignation or outrage, but never laughter.
‘Oh, an old joke,’ she said swiftly. ‘My mind was wandering.’
Mrs Bentinck patted her arm. ‘What you need is sustenance. Everyone will be leaving soon and we will then have a little supper.’
She went off to see her guests out and Mary moved across to join Harriett, who was beckoning to her from the sofa.
‘We have been invited to stay to sup with you,’ she said, pulling Mary down beside her.
‘Oh.’ Mary found her gaze once more drifting to the tall figure of the earl standing before the fire. ‘But, Lord Randall must be exhausted if he only reached you today—’
‘Nonsense,’ said Harriett bracingly. ‘My brother is a hardened soldier and quite capable of staying up all night, if necessary, is that not so, Justin?’
Mary had thought the earl deep in conversation with Mr Graveney, but he turned his head and she found herself once more subjected to that piercing blue gaze.
‘Indeed it is, but it will be no hardship to spend a little more time here and in such delightful company.’
‘Why, Justin, that is quite the prettiest thing I have ever heard you say,’ declared Harriett, quite shocked.
Mary felt her friend’s speculative glance turned upon her and quickly looked away, busying herself with smoothing the wrinkles from her long gloves. When everyone else had left they went into the dining room where supper was set out, comprising cold meats, fruit and wine. Since informality was the order of the day Mary chose a seat between her cousin and Harriett. This put her as far as possible from Randall, which she thought safest for her peace of mind, so it was in horror that she realised her old school friend was rising from her seat, saying cheerfully, ‘Brother, dear, would you be kind enough to change places with me? I think I have a slight chill and would much prefer to sit a little closer to the fire.’
The next moment the earl was lowering his long frame on to the chair beside her. She tried to keep her eyes fixed upon her plate, but it was impossible not to look at his lean, muscled legs as he took his place. The black-stockinet pantaloons clung tightly to his thighs and she felt herself growing quite hot with embarrassment as her imagination rioted. Mary closed her eyes. Good heavens, she was not a schoolgirl to be so affected by a man.
‘Miss Endacott, are you quite well?’
The sound of that deep voice, rich and smooth as chocolate, did nothing to calm her, but the thought of making a fool of herself in front of everyone stiffened her resolve. She raised her head and managed to respond with tolerable equanimity.
‘Quite well, thank you, my lord. My thoughts were elsewhere.’
‘Thinking of the long journey you are to undertake at the end of the week, no doubt,’ said Mrs Bentinck, sitting on her other side.
Mary pulled herself together. She said gaily, ‘Oh, do not let us talk about me, I would much rather be distracted from the sad inevitability of leaving my friends.’
‘Randall, too, is leaving on Friday,’ put in Harriett.
‘Ah, to join Wellington’s army, no doubt,’ said Mr Bentinck. ‘Do you sail from Dover, my lord?’
‘Folkestone,’ the earl replied. ‘I have my own yacht there.’
‘Really?’ said Harriett. ‘I thought you had sold it.’
‘No. I sent it to Chatham to be refurbished.’
‘I told you he would not have disposed of it,’ declared Mr Graveney. ‘The rich must have their playthings, eh, my boy?’
‘It was used to carry some of our troops home from Corunna, was it not?’ Mary wondered why she had felt it necessary to jump to the earl’s defence, especially since it brought her to his attention once more.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘I think it was very good of you to join us this evening, my lord,’ declared Mrs Bentinck, relieving Mary of the necessity of saying anything more. ‘Mrs Graveney will have told you that our little gatherings tend to attract young men with rather revolutionary ideas.’
‘Which is why we enjoy your parties so much,’ cried Mr Graveney, waving his fork in the air. ‘For the cut and thrust of the debate. Some of these youngsters have fire in their bellies, eh, Bentinck?’
‘They do indeed,’ replied their host, ‘but most of them burn out as they grow up. One only has to look at Southey. Angry young rebel one day, tugging his forelock to the King the next.’
‘I rather fear expediency cooled a great deal of his radicalism,’ said Mary. ‘A poet must support himself.’
‘His principles must be in question,’ put in Lord Randall. ‘He could not otherwise relinquish them so easily.’
Mary shook her head. ‘I do not agree. Sometimes we have to compromise if we are to make a living.’
‘As you have done, Mary,’ Harriett added.
Mary felt the earl’s eyes upon her again and felt sure he was about to ask what compromises she had made, but before he could speak Mr Graveney introduced a new topic, which Mary took up with alacrity.
* * *
‘Well now, that was not such a bad evening after all, was it?’
In the darkness of the carriage Randall could not see his sister’s face, but he could hear the laughter in her voice.
‘Some of those young men would benefit from a little army discipline,’ he replied. ‘That would put their idealism to flight.’
‘But we need such men,’ argued Graveney. ‘Once these young fellows have formulated their ideas and matured a little, they will be the next to govern our great nation.’
‘If we have a nation by then,’ said Harriett. ‘The reports all say that Bonaparte has returned stronger than ever.’
‘That may be,’ replied Randall. ‘But this time he must face Wellington himself.’
‘And do you seriously believe the duke will be able to beat him?’
Randall thought of the seasoned troops not yet returned from America, the untried soldiers already waiting for their first taste of action, to say nothing of their leaders; the impulsive Prince of Orange, the bickering factions of the Allied forces. His response indicated none of his concerns.
‘Of course we shall beat him and this time it will be decisive.’
‘And you must soon go off to join your men.’ Harriett clutched his arm. ‘Promise me you will be careful, Randall.’
‘I am always careful.’
‘And you will take Grandfather’s sword with you?’
‘I never fight without it.’
He felt her relax. The sword was something of a lucky charm. Randall’s father had shown no inclination to become a soldier and the old earl had left the sword to his grandson. Randall had worn it at every battle, coming unscathed through even the heaviest fighting. He was not superstitious, but he knew his family placed great store by the talisman. He had been fortunate so far, but he knew his luck could not last forever.
Randall gave a little inward shrug. If this was to be the end, he hoped he would live long enough to see Bonaparte defeated. As for the succession, he had brothers enough to carry on the line. Thank goodness he had no wife to weep for him.
A vision of Mary Endacott came into his mind, with her dusky curls and retroussé nose and those serious green eyes that could suddenly sparkle with merriment.
As if reading his thoughts Harriett said, ‘I have invited the Bentincks to take tea with us on Wednesday. I doubt if Mr Bentinck will attend, but I hope Mary will come.’
‘Oh, Bentinck will be there,’ said Graveney cheerfully. ‘I told him I had acquired a copy of Hooke’s Micrographia and he is mad to see it. I have no doubt that you, too, would like to inspect it, my lord?’
Randall agreed, but was uncomfortably aware that he was even more keen to see Mary Endacott again.
‘Oh, fie on you, Theo, with your dusty books,’ cried Hattie. ‘I have something that will be much more diverting for Randall. If the rain holds off we will ride out together in the morning, Brother. You will like that, will you not?’
‘My dear, Randall has been in the saddle most of the day,’ her spouse protested mildly.
‘But he is a soldier and used to it, aren’t you, Justin? Surely you will oblige me by accompanying me tomorrow?’
‘To be sure I will, Hattie. I should be delighted to see what changes have occurred here since my last visit.’
‘Good. And I am lending my spare hack to Mary, who loves to ride. What a pleasant party we shall be.’
Even in the darkness there was no mistaking Hattie’s self-satisfaction. Randall sat back in the corner of the carriage and cursed silently. His sister seemed set on matchmaking.
