The Shocking Lord Standon. Louise Allen

he began, reaching for the mustard pot.

      ‘So I understand.’ There was a muted clang as she turned back a lid and began to fill her plate. ‘I understand you could accurately identify Polly as being just my size.’ Ah. Mary might be skilful as a lady’s maid, but she was obviously somewhat lacking in tact. ‘Goodness, black pudding, what a treat.’ There was another clang. Gareth began to amuse himself following Jessica’s progress along the buffet by sound alone. ‘Who else is coming to breakfast, my lord?’

      ‘Just us.’ He bit into the rare sirloin.

      ‘Indeed? How lavish it is.’

      He suspected he was on the receiving end of a very governessy look, to do with extravagance and possibly gluttony. Gareth grinned at his rapidly diminishing steak and contemplated what response would be most calculated to tease her.

      ‘I do not believe in stinting—’ He broke off at the sound of raised voices in the hall. Or at least, of one, very familiar, female voice raised in argument and Jordan’s even tones attempting to head her off. Impossible, the man should know that by now.

      ‘—his lordship is up!’ The door swung open. ‘You see, he was in here all the time. Good morning, Gareth darling.’

      ‘Maude.’ Gareth got to his feet and submitted to being pecked on the cheek by the black-haired whirlwind who swept in, thrusting her vast muff into Jordan’s hands. ‘What on earth do you keep in a muff that size? A small pony? And what are you doing here at this hour of the day and without a chaperon?’

      ‘They are all the crack this size. And as for chaperons—piffle.’ She sat down next to him, tugged off her bonnet and reached for a cup. ‘Is that coffee?’

      ‘Yes.’ Resigned to the invasion, he sat down again and passed the pot. ‘And it is not piffle. Do you want to end up marrying me?’

      ‘Lord, no!’ She laughed at him, glossy black curls bouncing, the morning chill colouring her cheeks and lending sparkle to her blue eyes. She really was the most lovely creature and he was strongly tempted to box her ears. ‘That’s why I am here, this marriage thing is getting serious. Papa has Pronounced. Say what I will, he is fixed upon our union. You are the only man for me, in his opinion—as well as being well bred, healthy, in your right mind and rich, you are also, he tells me, a pillar of rectitude and just what a flibbertigibbet like me requires in a husband.’

      ‘I don’t want to marry you,’ Gareth said flatly. ‘None of this is news, Maude. You don’t want to marry me either. Our parents came up with this idiot agreement, it isn’t legally binding.’

      ‘I know that! But most of society believes we are betrothed. Gareth, how am I ever going to find a man to marry if they are all afraid of you?’

      ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ Gareth poured them both more coffee. ‘I have never confirmed the rumours, I have never given your father any indication that I might do as he wishes.’

      ‘He will not listen. And neither do all the gorgeous men out there who are avoiding me like the plague!’ Maude set her elbow on the table, put her pointed chin on the palm of her hand and gazed at him earnestly. ‘There is only one thing to do Gareth, you are going to have to embark on a life of sin and debauchery.’

      The gasp behind him had Maude swinging round on her seat, her eyes searching the less well-lit end of the room. ‘Gareth! You fraud—you’ve already started.’

      The eruption into the room of one of the loveliest young women she had ever seen froze Jessica in front of the buffet. Even in the flat light of a winter morning the intruder seemed to gleam like a highly finished piece of jewellery. Her hair was a glossy mass of black ringlets, her clothes had the dull sheen of silk and merino, her eyes glinted like Ceylon sapphires and her teeth as she laughed at Lord Standon were white and perfect.

      Jessica stood quite still, her plate clasped in both hands while this lovely creature, quivering with barely suppressed energy, swept on. Despite her lack of a chaperon, she did not need Lord Standon’s words to realise that this was a lady and not, despite her scandalous presence in an unmarried man’s breakfast parlour, one of the muslin company. Maude, whoever she was, was quite obviously well bred, wealthy and supremely self-confident.

      ‘…you are going to have to embark on a life of sin and debauchery.’

      Jessica gasped, all too aware of the picture she must present. There was no way out of the room unseen.

      Maude swung round, her face lighting up into a picture of delighted mischief at the sight of Jessica. ‘Gareth! You fraud—you’ve already started.’

      ‘I—’ Jessica put down her plate and walked towards the door. ‘Excuse me, you will wish to be alone, Lord Standon.’

      ‘Miss Gifford.’ He stood up. ‘Please, sit down and have your breakfast. Lady Maude is just going.’ He held out a chair for her on the opposite side of the table and waited. Jessica sat while he retrieved her plate, placed it in front of her and poured her coffee. There did not appear to be any choice.

      ‘Thank you, my lord. But—’

      ‘My pleasure. Maude, go home.’

      ‘Certainly not, this is far too interesting.’ Lady Maude settled herself squarely to the table and reached for the bread and butter. ‘Introduce us properly, Gareth.’ She beamed at Jessica. ‘That’s Julia’s robe, I was with her when she bought it. Are you a friend of hers? I was rather hoping that you were an exotic bird of paradise and that Gareth was about to launch himself into a life of scandalous dissipation and save us both. But I can see you are a lady. Which is a disappointment, I must admit.’

      Jessica blinked in the face of this torrent and plucked out one name. ‘Who is Julia?’

      ‘Lady Blundell, Gareth’s sister. Would you pass the honey? Thank you so much.’

      So she had completely misjudged him. He had lent her his sister’s clothes, not his mistress’s, he had no intention of ravishing her—and now she was embarrassing him by being here when this extraordinary young woman descended upon him.

      Jessica shot Lord Standon a cautious sideways glance. He had pushed his plate to one side and had buried his face in his hands, which she supposed was a reasonable reaction from anyone attempting to deal with Lady Maude. She looked back at the other woman. Maude gazed back, her lovely face a picture of cheerful curiosity. Jessica succumbed to it, unable to think of a single fabrication that might cover her presence there.

      ‘My name is Jessica Gifford. I am a governess and yesterday I was abducted off the stage by a brothel keeper. Lord Standon rescued me and his housekeeper is buying me clothes so I can go to an employment agency today and secure another position.’

      ‘Goodness. How beautifully concise and organised you are. I shall see if I can match you. I am Maude Templeton, my papa is the Earl of Pangbourne and my entire ambition at the moment is not to end up married to Gareth.’

      ‘Why?’ Jessica enquired bluntly. ‘His lordship appears eminently eligible to me.’ This was greeted by a faint moan from the head of the table. Lady Maude rolled her eyes.

      ‘Gareth, stop it. Miss Gifford is obviously a woman of sense and her breakfast is getting cold. We can all agree that you are completely eligible, utterly gorgeous and I am demented not to want to marry you. Likewise I am lovely, desirable, incredibly well bred and amazingly well dowered. You must be all about in the head not to want me. Let us all finish our breakfast and then we can decide what to do about it.’

      ‘I know exactly what I am going to do.’ Lord Standon lowered his hands and regarded both of them with dis-favour. ‘I am going to ring for Jordan, who will put you in your carriage and send you home, Maude. Miss Gifford is going to finish her breakfast and then, when Mrs Childe returns with her new clothes, I will send her in the barouche to interview as many employment agencies as she sees fit to visit. You, meanwhile, will stand ready to provide whatever references Miss Gifford requires to cover the period of unemployment