Sarah Mallory - The Earl's Runaway Bride

‘Precisely.’ Lady Charlotte nodded. ‘You must remember your breeding, my son.’

As the carriage pulled away Gerald threw a rueful glance across at Nathan. ‘When am I ever allowed to forget it?’

‘So. It is done. I have met him.’

Felicity closed the door of her little bedchamber and leaned against it. Her legs felt very unsteady, so much so that she dare not even attempt to walk across the room to her bed. She closed her eyes. Nathan’s image rose before her, so familiar, so dear. She had studied him closely while the two carriages were stopped. In profile she thought him even more handsome than when they had first met, his face leaner, his look more serious. Even when she saw again the scar across the left side of his face she was no longer horrified by it. She was thankful the dreadful disfigurement did not seem to have affected his sight; his eyes were as keen as ever and for a moment she had quailed beneath her thick veil, convinced that he would recognise her. Even worse than the fear of detection was the fierce disappointment she had known when he had addressed her; he was clearly unaware of her identity and his indifference hit her like a physical blow.

‘But it is done,’ she said again. ‘Now I have seen him I know what to expect, I am prepared.’

However, being prepared did not prevent her from feeling slightly sick when Sir James announced cheerfully that she would be required to accompany his wife to Lady Somerton’s later that night.

‘I know I promised to attend, but I have fallen behind with drawing up my plans for Tsar Alexander’s arrival in London—I gave my word that I would report to Carlton House tomorrow morning.’

‘Then you must remain here and finish them,’ replied Lydia calmly. ‘But there is not the slightest need for Felicity to come with me: Lady Somerton is such an old friend…’

Felicity felt Sir James’s eyes upon her and she said immediately, ‘There is nothing I should like more than to go with you, Lady Souden.’

Lydia blinked. ‘You would?’

‘Of course,’ Felicity lied valiantly. ‘You will recall you showed me Lady Somerton’s invitation and said she hoped that Lord Byron would be there and would read for her.’

‘But I thought you disliked Byron,’ objected Lydia.

‘His style of living, perhaps,’ Felicity persisted. ‘His poetry is quite—quite impressive.’

Her friend looked at her in surprise. Felicity maintained her calm, aware that Sir James was also regarding her, but with approval, and she drew some comfort from this as she ran upstairs after dinner to change her gown. And what if Nathan should be there? Felicity knew this question would be on Lydia’s lips as soon as they were alone together. She had no answer, and could only pray that the earl was not a lover of poetry.

Lady Somerton’s tall, narrow town house was crowded and noisy. Felicity followed Lydia as she swept up the stairs to the main reception rooms, ostrich feathers dancing, and was immediately surrounded by her friends and acquaintances. Felicity stayed very close. In her plain grey gown she elicited barely a glance from the gentlemen vying for the beautiful Lady Souden’s attention and no glance at all from the matrons who came up to claim acquaintance with one of the most fashionable personages of the ton .

Lady Somerton laughingly chided Lydia for arriving so late and ushered them into a large salon where the poetry reading was about to begin. Felicity followed on, but such was the crush that she was unable to secure a seat beside her friend and was obliged to find a space for herself towards the back of the room. This suited her very well, for she was able to observe the crowds from the shadowy recesses.

Any hopes that Nathan might not attend were soon dashed when she saw him stroll into the room. At first she thought it was her imagination that there was a change in the atmosphere as he entered, but there was a definite murmur of excitement rippling around the salon. A young lady to her right fluttered her fan and muttered, ‘Mama! The Earl of Rosthorne is come.’

‘Then stand up straight, Maria,’ retorted her turbaned parent. ‘You will not catch his attention if you slouch. Shoulders back, my love; he is surveying the company.’

The young lady plied her fan even faster. ‘Oh, Mama, he looks so severe, I vow he frightens me!’

‘Nonsense, child, it is merely the effect of that dreadful scar. Smile now…Oh, how vexing, Lady Somerton is carrying him off. Never mind, Maria, while he is in the room there is still hope. Keep your head up. And do not squint, girl! You will need all your wits about you if you wish to become a countess.’

A cold chill settled around Felicity’s heart. Was that the reason Nathan was in town, to find a wife? Why should he not? she asked herself miserably. She had done her best to disappear, doubtless he had forgotten her in the inevitable confusion of removing the army and its followers from Corunna.

The evening dragged on. Felicity heard very little of the poetry—her attention was fixed on Nathan. At one point he looked around, as if conscious of her gaze, and she was obliged to draw back into the shadows. When there was a break in the recital Felicity noticed that he was immediately surrounded by ladies, all eager for his attention. The turbaned matron lost no time in joining the throng and was soon presenting him to her daughter. Felicity longed for it to be her hand he was carrying to his lips, her words that made him smile. She forced herself to look away. It would do her no good to dwell on what could never be.

She spotted Lydia at the centre of a laughing, chattering group of ladies and seeing that she was as far from Nathan as the room would allow, Felicity made her way across to her. Lady Souden looked up as she approached, excused herself with her charming smile and stepped away from the group to take Felicity’s arm.

‘Well, my dear, what do you think to it?’ Lydia giggled. ‘I have rarely heard such execrable verse, I think.’

‘Was it so very bad? I was not really listening…’

‘Dreadful, my dear,’ Lydia murmured, smiling across the room at their hostess. ‘Rosthorne is here, have you seen him?’

Felicity almost laughed at that. She had eyes for no one else!

‘Yes. By staying in the shadows he has not noticed me.’

‘But you are uneasy.’ Lydia patted her hands. ‘Shall we make our excuses and leave? If Lord Byron had been here I might have made a push to stay and be sociable but as it is, I think I would prefer to be at home with darling James.’

Felicity nodded. She looked across the room at Nathan. She would have liked to stay and prolong the torture of watching him, but she knew that was senseless, so with a word of acquiescence she turned and followed Lydia out of the room.

They were in the entrance hall, waiting for their carriage when Lydia reached over and deftly flicked up the hood of Felicity’s cloak.

‘Cover yourself,’ she murmured. ‘Rosthorne is coming.’ She gave Felicity’s shoulder a reassuring pat before turning. ‘My lord.’

Felicity stepped behind Lydia and out of Nathan’s direct gaze.

‘Going so soon, madam?’

‘Why, yes, my lord.’ Lydia gave him her charming smile. ‘I find a little poetry goes a long way.’

The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘Well said, ma’am! I expected to see Sir James with you.’

‘Unfortunately his work on plans for the Tsar’s entertainment would not allow him time to come with me this evening. I have no doubt that when we get back we shall find him still poring over his notes.’

‘Well, ma’ am, if you have no escort, you must let me accompany you to Berkeley Square—’

Lydia gave a little laugh. ‘I would not dream of taking you away from Lady Somerton, my lord.’

‘If your opinion of the readings this evening is the same as mine, you will know that I welcome the distraction.’

The boyish grin that accompanied the words was like a physical blow to Felicity. Nathan suddenly looked so much younger, so much more like the handsome hero of her dreams.

‘But I will not hear of it,’ Lydia was saying to him. ‘We have our footmen and link boys, so I need not trouble you, my lord.’

‘It will be no trouble at all,’ replied Lord Rosthorne, walking to the door beside her. ‘In fact, it suits me very well, for I need to see Sir James and it is so early that I am sure he will not object to my disturbing him. Therefore I will come with you—I beg your pardon, Miss Brown, did you say something?’

‘She coughed,’ said Lydia quickly. ‘But really, my lord, there is no need—’

‘Madam, I insist.’ Nathan held out his arm and after a brief hesitation Lydia placed her fingers upon his arm and allowed him to escort her to the waiting carriage. Felicity followed closely. She was aware of an unnerving and quite illogical temptation to reach out and cling to the skirts of Nathan’s black evening coat.

Nathan had been quite sincere in his assurances. He was glad of an excuse to quit Lady Somerton’s soirée. He had never intended to remain there for long, and if by escorting Lady Souden to her home he could have five minutes’ conversation with Sir James it would save him time in the morning.

He handed Lady Souden into the carriage then turned to her companion. The little hand in its kid glove trembled beneath his fingers but that did not surprise him; Miss Brown seemed to be a very nervous person. She did not even lift her head to thank him as he helped her into the coach.

The journey to Berkeley Square was short and Lady Souden kept up a flow of conversation to which Nathan willingly responded, although he found his attention straying to her companion, sitting quietly in the corner. Even enveloped in her cloak there was something familiar about the way she held herself. Who was she? Why did he feel that he should know her?

He thought of the women he had met during his days with Wellington’s army and a silent laugh shook him. Perhaps one of the lightskirts he had known had come to England and decided to turn respectable. They would be very likely to take an innocuous name such as Brown! He glanced again at the little figure sitting bolt upright by the window. No, that was not the answer. His instinct told him the chit was no straw damsel. From what he had seen of her, she behaved more like a nun.

Nathan realised Lady Souden was still talking to him, and he broke into her nervous chatter to say with a touch of impatience, ‘I fear my presence makes you uncomfortable, ma’am.’

‘No—no, not at all,’ stammered Lady Souden.

‘Be assured that I have no intention of stepping beyond the bounds of propriety. Besides, you have Miss Brown here to act as your chaperon.’

‘Oh—no, no, you misunderstand me, my lord,’ Lady Souden stammered. ‘If—if I seem a little anxious, it is because—because I have a headache!’

Nathan was thankful for the dark interior of the carriage, for he was sure his scepticism was evident in his face. Something was upsetting Lady Souden, but if she wished to lie to him rather than explain, then so be it. He had long ago given up trying to understand women.

‘I am sorry to hear it,’ he replied quietly. ‘But if that is the case, perhaps we should not talk for the remainder of the journey.’

The uncomfortable silence that ensued was mercifully short. When they arrived in Berkeley Square, Nathan lost no time in handing down Lady Souden and escorting her to the door, where she thanked him prettily enough for his trouble. As soon as she had directed a footman to take him to Sir James, she grabbed her companion’s hand and hurried away.