Читать книгу The Wedding Game - Christine Merrill - Страница 14

Chapter Five

Ben stared out of the window of his rooms at the busy crowds below him on Bond Street, contemplating his future. Hopefully, it would be devoid of the humiliation he had experienced on yesterday’s ride in Hyde Park.

He was an expert horseman, able to handle even the most spirited cattle with ease. But after five minutes of conversation with Miss Amelia Summoner he had been displayed before all of London society as a man who could not hold his seat on a walk down a bridle path. Worst of all, her sister had turned back to see him muddied and bruised. Her laughter at his predicament was a hundred times more painful than the fall had been.

If the experience in Rotten Row had gained him anything, it was proof that his friend Templeton was only partly correct in his assessment of Miss Summoner. Ben could see no sign that she was romantically attracted to him or anyone else. But it seemed that she was, in some way, obsessed with him. Her fixation bordered almost on mania. Could it be an untreated madness, or was there something he had done to set her off? He could not think what that might be. She had seemed set against him, even before an introduction was made. Perhaps she had chosen him at random to bear the brunt of her jealousy over her sister’s success. Or maybe she simply hated men.

After ten years in the thrall of one, he was more than wary of the focused attentions of overly clever women. At first he had been drawn to Cassandra’s intellect and aspired to become her equal. To be worthy of such a woman, a man had to strive for constant improvement.

The day had come when he’d finally been ready for the verbal fencing matches he’d dreamed of. He’d honed his wits to a rapier point only to discover she was wielding a stiletto. She had made him suffer for his impudence in believing he could ever be her master.

Never again.

Such women might make the best mistresses. Like the mote in Miss Amelia’s eye, even their flaws seemed to sparkle with a tempting vivacity. But now that he meant to marry, it would be to the quiet beauty of an Arabella. It would be like coming home to a house filled with fresh flowers, each day. Just the thought of her smile made the tensions in his soul relax. After what he had been through, he deserved peace.

It did not matter what fate Amelia Summoner planned for him. He wanted no part of it. But in one thing, his friend Templeton, had been totally right. To gain the ultimate tranquillity of a life with Belle, Ben would need to douse the conflagration that burned in her sister. If the elder of the two became a member of his household, his life would be far more difficult than he wished it to be. There must be some man in London who could take her off his hands.

First, he must find a way to charm her out of the irrational antipathy she displayed towards him. Once a truce had been declared, perhaps, he could gain some insight into her character and find an acceptable match for her where Lord Summoner had failed. He took a moment to imagine the happy gratitude of that gentleman at settling a matter that no doubt weighed heavily on his mind. It would be one more thing that would smooth the way when Ben asked for his younger daughter’s hand.

And there, on the street just below him, were the two women he most wanted to impress, admiring the bonnets in the milliner’s shop opposite his rooms. The older woman who accompanied them, and who he assumed was their chaperon, was swaying slightly as the terrier on the leash in her hand strained at each passer-by.

Perhaps today he might make an impression on the pair of them without Templeton swooping in to monopolise Arabella. Ben gave a brief glance in the mirror to assure himself that his cravat and coat were spotless before racing down the stairs. At the door, he took only a moment to compose himself again, so that their meeting might seem a chance encounter on London’s most popular shopping thoroughfare.

But in the moments it had taken to get from sitting room to street, his future wife had disappeared along with her keeper, leaving Miss Amelia and the dog as grim sentinels prepared to thwart his plans.

The girl glanced in his direction for only a moment, before turning back to stare at the shop window in a deliberate attempt to ignore him. The terrier, however, pivoted on the line holding him to give Ben’s shoes a thorough sniffing. The little beast was uncommonly ugly for a lady’s pet. It seemed to be made of the parts of a variety of animals, stuck together in a haphazard fashion by someone who had no clear idea of what a dog was supposed to look like. Its long body supported an enormous head and waddled along on hardly any legs at all. The whole of it was covered with a layer of unevenly cropped white-and-tan fur. When it had completed its investigation of his shoes, it looked up at him with an air of resigned embarrassment at its own appearance. It was then he saw that its eyes were no more coordinated than the rest of it. They were large as a bug’s and mismatched in colour, one blue, one brown, like a ridiculous parody of the woman who controlled it. It ambled forward and flopped down upon his foot, giving him far more notice than its owner, who was still stubbornly ignoring him.

If he meant to join her family, he could not allow her to cut him on the street. He nudged the dog gently aside and stepped forward, smiling. ‘Miss Summoner.’

He was sure he had spoken loud enough to be heard, but she remained purposefully oblivious.

‘Miss Summoner,’ he said more loudly to prove he would not be denied. Then he took his place beside her, trying to meet her eyes in the reflection of the glass.

She did not turn, still focusing on the goods displayed. ‘You are not the gentleman you claim to be, Mr Lovell.’

Her words hit so close to the truth that his smile faltered and he bit his tongue to stop the question echoing in his head.

What have you heard?

She continued with the obvious explanation for her words. ‘Surely you know that when a lady does not acknowledge you, you must not persist in trying to engage her.’

It was nothing. He was safe. He let out a relieved breath and shifted his leg to detach the dog, who was now sniffing the hems of his pants. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’ he asked, honestly curious.

‘To offend me? No, Mr Lovell, you have not. But I would hate to spoil that.’

‘Do not be glib with me, Miss Summoner.’

‘I was not attempting to be,’ she reminded him. ‘I was attempting to avoid you.’

‘But why?’ Now he sounded like a petulant child. He gave her reflection another disarming smile. ‘Is there a reason that we cannot have a friendly conversation when we meet on a crowded street?’

She gave him a governess’s sigh of disappointment. ‘Let us be honest, just for a moment. You do not want to speak to me, Mr Lovell. You wish to speak to my sister.’

Did she honestly think he would be rude enough to admit the truth? He glanced around him. ‘Then I will be sorely disappointed. She is not here at the moment.’

‘Because she has gone to Gunter’s for an ice.’

He could not help himself. His head turned in the direction of the confectioner’s shop, revealing his true motive. To hide his embarrassment, he bent down to pet the dog, carefully removing the sodden fabric of his pants leg from the animal’s mouth. Then he looked down at Miss Amelia, all innocence. ‘There is no reason I cannot speak to both of you.’

‘Now who is being glib, Mr Lovell? Your desire to be all things to all people puts me in mind of a politician. Perhaps it is my father you should be talking to instead of Belle and me.’

Was the woman really so astute as to guess his plans, or were his motives transparent? Either way, if he denied it now, she would have reason to call him a liar when the truth became clear. He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. ‘I will take that as a compliment, Miss Summoner. I would consider it an honour to serve my country by standing for office.’

She responded to this with a shudder of revulsion that surprised him.

‘I would think you, of all people, would have respect for public servants,’ he said.

‘Because of my father?’ She let out a brief sharp laugh. ‘I stand corrected, Mr Lovell. You are far too naïve for politics.’

If he was being naïve, it would not be the first time. ‘Perhaps I am. But that will not keep me from seeking a seat in the House of Commons. It will do more good than harm to have members willing to effect changes to benefit the common men our government supposedly represents.’

‘A reformer?’ Her brows rose, making her eyes seem even larger. ‘I can hardly wait for you to meet my father, Mr Lovell. He will eat you and your ambitions for breakfast.’

Some small part of him quailed at the thought that a man who might be so instrumental to his future could end it before he’d even begun. But he had come too far to quit without so much as an attempt, based on the word of a woman who seemed almost desperate to thwart him. ‘Then I shall work to be so palatable that he digests my ideas and makes them his own,’ he replied.

For the first time, she looked at him with what almost appeared to be admiration.

Emboldened, he went on. ‘And for your information, Miss Summoner, I do not consider myself a reformer. The modern machines found in the factories of the north have workers in an uproar. Soldiers who loyally served their King and country return from our wars missing limbs and with no means of supporting themselves beyond begging. Society changes with or without our help. We must be ready to guide it when it does or the country will fall to ruin.’

She clapped her gloved hands in mock admiration, causing the dog at his feet to release his leg and retreat behind her skirts. ‘Bravo, Mr Lovell. What a stirring speech. But it was hardly necessary to give it to me. The elections for the position you seek are, for the most part, forgone conclusions.’

‘The votes are controlled by men like your father,’ he agreed. ‘But that does not mean I do not belong in government, nor will it stop me from trying to win your favour. Were you able to vote, perhaps you might agree with some of my positions.’

‘Perhaps I would. I at least agree with your position that our country should be concerned with the welfare of the weak as well as the strong.’ She shrugged dismissively. ‘If I have grown cynical over the likelihood of that happening, it is the world and my father that have made me so.’

There was something in the unwavering and intelligent gaze she returned that made him wonder if he might be better off if Amelia Summoner could vote. Perhaps, if her quick wits were acknowledged and put to use, she would not be using them to bedevil the men in her life.

‘Let us call a truce, then,’ he said. ‘I acknowledge that my behaviour has been abominable, demanding that you speak to me when you clearly did not want to. I should not have done so.’

At this, she turned to look at him and he saw the faintest shift in the fleck of her eye, as if deep waters had been stirred to give a glimpse of what rested beneath. ‘And I had no right to mock your ambitions. They are noble ones, though I suspect they are doomed to failure.’ Then the vulnerability was gone and she was just as hard and brittle as she always was. ‘But that does not mean I will allow you access to my sister. You can want only two things in gaining an introduction to her.’

‘Really?’ he said, his apology forgotten and sarcasm coming to the fore again. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘You either seek a dishonourable liaison...’

‘Dishonourable?’ He blew his breath out in a great puff that would have been a curse if he had not been in the company of a lady. The terrier reappeared and gave a low growl to remind him of his manners. ‘I can assure you I would never intend such a thing.’

‘Then you are thinking of marriage,’ Miss Amelia said, tipping her head to the side as she looked at him, as if observing some exotic creature. ‘Since that is not to be, it hardly seems necessary for you to seek her out for a deeper acquaintance.’

‘I have barely spoken to her yet. How, exactly, would you know that there is no hope?’ he asked. Then he studied her just as closely as she did him. ‘Are the lady’s affections fixed upon another?’

‘To the best of my knowledge, they are not,’ she said. ‘But the lack of a rival does not automatically make you a good candidate for husband.’

‘Nor should it exclude me,’ he replied, doing his best to be perfectly reasonable. ‘I ask again, have I done something to make you set against a possible match?’

Again, he saw the movement in the depths. And again, it resulted in nothing. ‘I know her. And I know you.’

‘You hardly know me at all,’ he reminded her. ‘We have just met.’

‘I know you well enough to see that you will not suit,’ she countered.

He swallowed his denial. Could she really see past the façade so easily and know that he was unworthy?

‘I know that you are exactly like all the other gentlemen of the ton,’ she finished.

So it was nothing about him that she specifically disliked. ‘Then you have a problem with males in general,’ he said.

‘Not at all.’ She gave a slow, cat-like blink of her mismatched eyes. ‘I merely think that you are ordinary. My sister will require the extraordinary.’

The last word touched him like a finger drawn down his spine. His mind argued that she was right. There was nothing the least bit exceptional about him. If she learned the truth, she would think him common as muck and far beneath her notice. But then, he remembered just how far a man could rise with diligence and the help of a beautiful woman. He leaned in to her, offering his most seductive smile. ‘Then I shall simply have to be extraordinary for you.’

For Arabella.

That was what he had meant to say. He was supposed to be winning the princess, not flirting with the gatekeeper. But he had looked into those eyes again and had lost his way.

She showed no sign of noticing his mistake. Or had her cheeks gone pink? It was not much of a blush, just the barest hint of colour to imply that she might wish him to be as wonderful as he claimed.

In turn, he felt a growing need to impress her, to see the glow kindle into warm approval. Would her eyes soften when she smiled, or would they sparkle? And what would they do if he kissed her?

He blinked. It did not matter. His words had been a simple mistake and such thoughts were an even bigger one. They had not been discussing her at all. And now her dog was tugging on his pants again, as if to remind him that he should not, even for an instant, forget the prize he had fixed his sights on from the first.

She shook her head, as if she, too, needed to remember the object of the conversation. ‘If you must try to be extraordinary, Mr Lovell, then you have failed already. You either are, or you aren’t.’

He gave another shake of his leg, trying to dislodge the animal, and glared down at her. ‘So you think a man who is not born as pure as Galahad is not worthy to marry into your family.’

‘That is not what I meant and you know it.’

Then she had heard the lie everyone believed about his parentage, judged him by it and found him wanting. If illegitimacy shocked her, how distasteful would she find the truth? ‘Is your view of the world really so narrow that you cannot acknowledge a man might rise above his birth and endeavour to improve his character when he sees deficiency in it?’

She glanced away from him, down the street towards the confectioner’s shop where her sister must have gone. ‘My view is not the least bit narrow. But I know for a fact that there are some obstacles that cannot be overcome by wanting, Mr Lovell. You are not the right man for my sister and that is that.’

He had been foolish enough to speak of his ambitions and she’d seemed to agree. But apparently he was still not good enough. Not for her or her precious sister. He gave her a pitying smile. ‘While it is kind of you to want the best for her, perhaps you should let Miss Arabella choose her own husband and tend to your own future. If she is just down the street, there is no reason I cannot meet with her now and see what she thinks of me.’

‘Don’t you dare.’ Amelia glared back at him, like a five-foot three-inch pillar of fire. ‘Your fine and idealistic talk is nothing more than that, Mr Lovell. Nothing but words. And I will not have you making sheep’s eyes at Arabella, only to abandon her when your conquest has been successful. Leave her alone or I shall set the dog upon you.’

The animal in question was still tugging at him, as if to emphasise his mistress’s words. Ben gave a yank and heard cloth rip as his pants leg tore. When he looked down, her dog was holding a piece of his best pantaloons between its crooked teeth, tail wagging furiously as if he expected a reward.

For a moment, his temper got the better of him and he grabbed the scrap of cloth from its mouth, glaring at the girl who held the leash. ‘Miss Summoner, if you cannot control this miserable cur, then you should not bring him out in public to trouble the rest of us.’

Miss Amelia looked down at the dog with a triumphant smile. ‘Good dog, Mellie. You see him for what he is, don’t you? A man who does not care one bit for our Belle. If he did, he would know that you are not a miserable cur. You are Belle’s best friend in the world.’

Then she looked back at him, her smile disappearing. ‘Belle has very few requirements of the men who court her, Mr Lovell. She has requested someone who likes both dancing and dogs. When you were at Almack’s, a place where there is little else to do but stand up for a set, you did nothing but stand at the side of the room and speculate on others.’

‘You cannot mean to judge me on a single evening,’ he countered.

She gave no quarter. ‘It is plain from your opinion of Mellie that you have failed in the second requirement as well.’

‘I like dogs,’ he argued. Perhaps not this one. But it was hardly the standard bearer of its kind. ‘I like them as well as any man.’

‘But they do not like you,’ she said. ‘And neither do I.’ She gave a sharp tug on the leash and abandoned him to find her sister.