Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel. Mary Brendan

      ‘Please sit down!’ Sandford’s voice was curt. ‘Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of hearing me out. You mistake the matter. I assure you that there is no question of marriage!’

      Harriet looked at him in amazement. ‘But you said …’

      ‘He said ‘'engaged'', my dear,’ her ladyship said gently, drawing Harriet down beside her once more. ‘You see, it will save such a lot of talk if Robert is thought to have brought home his new fiancée. It would be quite unexceptional that you should accompany him after his father’s accident. We can send notices to the local Mercury and to the Lincoln Post—for your mother’s benefit—then no one will have cause to make unseemly comment. When we hear from your grandfather and know his intentions towards you, you can simply break off the agreement, saying that you found that you did not suit.’

      ‘That, in any event, would be close to the truth,’ muttered the viscount under his breath, as he poured himself another drink.

      When, during Harriet’s absence, Lady Caroline had proffered her suggestion of a mock ‘engagement', Sandford was at first horrified and then laughingly dismissive, but slowly began to realise that the scheme would in fact solve a good many difficulties that were certain to arise while they awaited Douglas Ramsey’s response to his mother’s letter, not the least of which, from his own point of view, was the embarrassing situation in which he always seemed to find himself on his visits to his sister-in-law’s house.

      Since his return from the Continent he had been a frequent visitor to Westpark, offering brotherly advice and comfort to the young widow and getting re-acquainted with his little nephew and niece, who had grown to regard him almost as a substitute for their beloved father, because of the viscount’s uncanny likeness.

      He, in his turn, found great delight in their company and had spent many happy hours with Christopher, engaging in those activities so beloved of small boys and grown men alike. Shy little Elspeth had, equally, won his heart with her huge brown eyes and appealing ways and Sandford would gladly have continued this happy association with Philip’s family had it not been for Judith’s mother, Lady Butler.

      This cantankerous old lady had made her home with the young Hursts after her own husband’s death three years previously when Judith, having been Sir Frederick’s sole heir, had joined her property with Philip’s own estates. Although Lady Butler had been left an excellent annuity, she had deemed it more convenient to move in with her daughter, thereby avoiding any of the household duties and attendant difficulties with which she would have been obliged to involve herself had she remained in her own home. She eschewed anything that interrupted the level tenor of her existence and, being an indolent and tediously complaining woman who considered that Life had dealt her a shabby hand, she regarded even the slightest inconvenience as a personal affront. She refused to involve herself in domestic affairs, yet happily criticised their organisation and, whilst she would never dream of offering her daughter any guiding advice on household management, she was always quick to point out where errors had been made. Easygoing Philip had merely laughed at his mother-in-law’s eccentricities, even occasionally chaffing her, but Sandford found her both irritating and encroaching and had, in the past, always excused himself from her company at the first opportunity.

      Recently, however, the viscount’s necessary visits to Westpark had thrown him into Lady Butler’s society more often and she had lately taken to pointing out how the children ‘loved him so', and how ‘dear Judith blossomed’ in his company and, worse, ‘how comfortably we all sit together'. With increasing dread, he saw clearly where her fancies were leading.

      His continuing lack of a bride was being misconstrued by Lady Butler as a sure sign that he was still ‘carrying the torch’ for her daughter and a second marriage into the Hurst family would simply ‘make all neat and tidy’ from her point of view, as well as raising her a notch higher in the social scale, for she was very much concerned with her own consequence.

      But Sandford was not about to indulge the old woman’s fantasy that one brother could simply step into the other’s shoes. Judith had made her choice years ago and, Sandford was certain, had never regretted it, so, with this scheme of his mother’s, he now saw what seemed to him a perfect solution to his own difficulties. For this reason alone he had finally agreed to the charade.

      He was, therefore, more than a little piqued at Harriet’s reaction to the suggestion, for he could hardly help being aware that his rank and wealth inevitably classified him as a considerable ‘catch’ in the marriage mart. He found to his surprise that, although his mother’s scheme was clearly meant to be merely a temporary arrangement, he had anticipated a more flattering and appreciative response from this chit of a girl and, considering her present situation, a certain gratitude towards himself.

      In his early days as a subaltern in a Rifle Brigade he had found himself fighting alongside Major Sir Jonathan Cordell in several engagements of the Peninsular campaign and had soon learned to respect the older officer’s judgement. Conditions were such, during that time, that he had met Lady Cordell very infrequently and her daughter, as far as he was aware, not at all.

      Preferring to be in the thick of the action, he was seldom to be found far from the front lines, this enthusiasm earning him rapid promotion, but inevitably he had, during one engagement, received a splinter in the thigh, which had necessitated him being carried off the field and transported to what passed as the hospital area. Here, amidst the sickening carnage and filth, he had witnessed ‘Mrs Major', as she was termed, working alongside the wives of the troopers and artillerymen as though she were a mere camp-follower instead of an officer’s lady. He had seen that she spoke as gently and compassionately to the roughest infantryman as she did to those of rank and title and he had been equally impressed by her firm efficiency as she tended the most appalling wounds. His own injury had not been severe and his conversations with her had been few and he had soon been transferred to his own quarters but, on other fields and in other battles, he had often recalled the sight of ‘Mrs Major’ walking quietly amongst the rows of dead and dying, bending to offer what little comfort she could.

      Her daughter certainly seemed to have that same indomitable spirit, he now mused, as he watched Harriet deep in conversation with his mother. He had been quite taken aback at her entrance. True, he had not studied her very closely up until that moment, but the transformation from mud-urchin was astonishing.

      The dirty, raggedly cropped hair was now a burning halo of soft curls framing a quite delightful face upon which was centred a neat straight nose, lightly dusted with some very unfashionable freckles. And that was a decidedly stubborn looking chin, he conjectured in growing amusement. The generous rosy lips, unpainted, he would swear, were half open as they exclaimed at some words the countess had uttered, and the eyes—what colour? He could not immediately recall, but was answered as the owner turned her face in his direction. Green as moss and fringed, most unusually, with thick, dark lashes.

      The result was breathtaking and, with a gleam in his eye, it suddenly occurred to him that being ‘engaged’ to this curious little creature could prove to be rather more than just an amusing diversion. Confident of his ability to charm her out of her unwarranted antagonism towards him, his spirits rose as he resolved to take her to visit his sister-in-law at the first opportunity.

       Chapter Three

      Harriet had suffered a restless night in her rose bedchamber. Her head ached and parts of her body felt very sore as she tossed and turned in the big bed. She was glad that it was not a four-poster, as she had always hated them, slightly fearful that someone may be prowling around beyond the closed bedcurtains.

      Having spent most of her youth in Spain and Portugal, she disliked being shut in, preferring open spaces and wide skies. She had discovered, to her surprise, that she loved the lush greenness of England and, even though she had also found that she was expected to conform to the rigid pattern of behaviour required of an English miss, she had eventually settled into her new life as a gentleman farmer’s daughter quite contentedly.

      However,