Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise Allen

modernised by the first earl in the early seventeenth century, then up the spiral staircase, part of the original castle. The weight of his ancestors and their expectations seemed to weigh on his shoulders and he wondered why he had not had the sense to take over his father’s comfortable suite on the first floor.

      Still, the tower rooms were every boy’s dream of what a castle should be and he had been too fond of them to move when he inherited. Lily would doubtless want to add several arrays of armour, a tasteful array of battleaxes and some antlers.

      Stamping firmly on the idea of Lily redecorating his bedchamber, Jack pushed open the door and found the room already occupied.

      ‘My lord, welcome home. I have unpacked your luggage already.’ It was Denton, his valet. The contents of his bags seemed to have been divided into three unequal piles. The largest Denton was pushing into the arms of a footman, with instructions to have them laundered immediately. Another pile, regrettably torn, was dropped in a corner and the valet was hanging up the meagre remains.

      He waited until the footman had closed the door. ‘I collect your lordship has been fighting. Unfortunately, I do not believe it will be possible at this late stage to remove the blood, and one does not wish to alarm the ladies, so I will destroy the linen concerned.’

      Guiltily Jack remembered throwing his shirt and neckcloth into his bag after his fight in the alehouse. Then there was the shirt that had had all its buttons torn off when he and Lily … and he seemed to recall a neckcloth … and the pile of handkerchiefs, which had been the first thing that came to hand when he knocked over the inkwell one afternoon.

      ‘Yes, well, order me some more shirts and neckcloths, Denton.’

      ‘Fisticuffs, I imagine, my lord.’ There was a faint hint of a question.

      ‘Yes. I won.’

      ‘Excellent, my lord.’ The valet shook out one remaining shirt, revealing a thin brown line across one sleeve. ‘This, however …’

      ‘This, however, is not something we discuss outside this room,’ Jack said firmly, shrugging off his jacket and beginning to unbutton his shirt. ‘And, yes, I could be said to have won that one as well.’

      ‘Darling, you look so much better.’ His mother’s greeting was as calm and warm as always, but Jack could sense the tension under it. He had not come home with a broad smile and a banker’s draft in his wallet and now she, and no doubt Caro as well, were braced for the worst.

      ‘Six hours’ sleep and a bath works wonders.’ He smiled at them and went to stand by the fireplace, empty now save for a massive arrangement of foliage and flowers. And the carefully applied dressing on his arm, which Denton had contrived to fit under his evening coat, completed the transformation from dishevelled coach traveller to English nobleman in his own castle.

      ‘I like your hair,’ Susan pronounced. ‘But how did you get that scar?’

      ‘I found myself in the middle of the most incredible event—a hoax of some sort, and a near riot as it turned out.’ He began to tell them about it as Grimwade announced dinner, and the tale took them through almost to the dessert.

      ‘Three undertakers and a bear!’ Penelope’s eyes were like saucers. ‘How I would have liked to see that.’

      ‘It was in the newspapers. To think we read about it and with no idea you were involved,’ Susan marvelled.

      ‘I do hope that Miss France sent for a good doctor,’ Lady Allerton remarked. ‘Poor lady. What a shock at her age.’

      ‘Yes, Doctor Ord was excellent. Her age?’

      ‘I assume she is an elderly spinster, living alone like that.’

      ‘Oh. Ah. Yes, a spinster.’ Both Caro’s eyebrows were raised now. She gave him a quizzical glance and resumed her dinner. Jack could feel himself colouring. ‘I attended a ball given by the Duchess of Oldbury just before I left London.’

      As a diversionary tactic it worked marvellously and Jack was still being bombarded with questions when they all retired back to the panelled drawing room, Jack bringing the decanter with him. He could not put it off any longer.

      ‘I did not succeed in finding an investor for the mine,’ he said baldly. ‘I am sorry, but it seems we are too far north and too far from any canals.’

      ‘Oh.’ His mother folded her hands neatly in her lap and was silent for a moment. ‘I am sure you did what you could, dearest.’

      Jack took a gulp of port. Oh, yes, he had done everything he could. Everything except swallow his damned pride and bring them home a fortune beyond their wildest dreams and with it security, dowries, comfort and no more worries.

      ‘It is too bad!’ it was Penny, on her feet, hands clenched, tears in her eyes. ‘Why are we so poor? Why cannot Jack make the mine create money? Mr Roper in the next valley does—he is sinking new shafts and he inherited at almost the same time as Jack did. Everything was all right when Papa was alive!’

      ‘Penelope!’ Caroline jumped to her feet and shook her sister by the shoulder. ‘Apologise to Jack this minute!’

      ‘That was very unfair, Penelope.’ Lady Allerton got up, her face white. ‘I think I will retire, if you will all excuse me.’

      ‘And you too, Penelope,’ Susan added angrily into the shocked silence as the door closed behind their mother. ‘I am ashamed of you!’

      Jack stood where he was, feeling sick. He had enough on his conscience as it was; the injustice of Penny’s attack somehow seemed deserved.

      ‘No.’ Caroline rounded on her sisters. ‘Sit down, both of you. It is about time you knew the truth.’ Jack held up a hand to try to stop her, but she shook her head. ‘I know about Papa, and I think it is about time the others did too. I will not have them blaming you for what is not your fault.’

      Chapter Sixteen

      Lily regarded the excellent dinner set out in the best private parlour in the Blue Boar in Stamford for her delectation. She felt decidedly queasy and she was too honest with herself to put it down to travel sickness. No, it was nerves and the strong conviction that she had bitten off more than she could chew.

      It was not too late to turn back, of course. All she would suffer would be some lost pride and Aunt Herrick saying ‘I told you so’ for at least a week. And she would have to live with herself afterwards, knowing she had not got the backbone to do what was right.

      But what if Jack did not understand? What if he thought she was pursuing him? She had already demonstrated just how fast and shameless she was by proposing marriage to him. And he could only have deduced from her willingness to yield to his caresses that she was positively wanton, she concluded, mentally flagellating herself for her shortcomings.

      Lily pushed a fritter around her plate. I am pursuing him. But only to apologise. I could write. That would be cowardly. One should face up to things when one made a mistake.

      He would be home by now, after that interminable stagecoach journey. She was feeling tired and frazzled and she had been in her own comfortable carriage for just one day, able to stop whenever she wanted and without a bullet wound in her arm. Stubborn man. Stupid, proud, stubborn man. Brave, proud, stubborn man. I love you. I ought to go home. I am not brave enough to do this. I will go home in the morning.

      ‘A mistress?’ Penelope stared at her eldest sister in horror. ‘Papa?’

      ‘Several mistresses. Very expensive ones, by all accounts,’ Caroline said grimly. ‘Oh, stop frowning at me, Jack! She ought to know, she is old enough.’

      ‘Well, I think men are beastly. All of them,’ Penny blurted out.

      ‘I haven’t got any expensive mistresses,’ Jack protested, only to be glared at by all three girls. ‘Nor cheap ones either!’

      ‘Do