Читать книгу A Marriageable Miss - Dorothy Elbury - Страница 11

‘Good heavens, Rick! Please tell me that you are joking!’

Carefully placing his glass on to the table in front of him, Charles Standish leaned forwards and stared at his cousin in astonishment.

‘You can’t mean to tell us that you’re actually prepared to go ahead with this chit’s bizarre proposition?’

Wincing at the other man’s somewhat discourteous reference to the far from chit-like Miss Wheatley, Richard took a deep breath and began, once again, to explain to his three companions the reason for his unexpected change of heart.

Standish and the earl, along with Sir Peter Braithwaite and the Honourable Geoffrey Fairfax, both ex-army colleagues of Markfield’s, were seated in the smoking room of Brooks’s, currently their preferred choice of venue.

‘Do pay attention, old man!’ groaned Braithwaite, as he signalled to the barman to bring another bottle. ‘Rick has already told you twice that the caper is merely for a couple of weeks and, it does seem to me that, as his friends, it is up to us to rally round him. Putting the word around that he could be about to shackle himself to this Wheatley girl might well stave off the bulk of his creditors while he regroups his resources.’

Then, turning to Richard, he asked sympathetically, ‘What would you have us do, old chap? I take it that you mean to have a stab at getting this Miss Wheatley accepted by the ton? Is the girl really up to it, do you suppose? It can be a pretty gruelling experience, you know—I understand that my cousin had a devilish hard time of it last year—in spite of the fact that Emily Cowper is one of her godmothers.’

Richard sighed. ‘I realise that it is going to be far from easy, but I aim to give it my best shot. Grandmama has asked if I could bring Miss Wheatley to meet her this afternoon…’ He paused for a moment, then continued manfully. ‘However, since I accompanied her ladyship up to town in her barouche, I appear to have a slight problem regarding a decent conveyance. Would it be too much to ask if you could spare me the loan of one of your carriages, Peter?’

‘Take your pick, old friend,’ returned Braithwaite immediately. ‘There is no one I would rather trust with my cattle than yourself. We can cut across to the mews right now, if you are of a mind?’

Not to be outdone, Fairfax, taking out his pocket book, added, ‘If you give me the young lady’s address, I shall get the mater to send an invite to her to attend her next soirée—Cadogan Place, you say? Pretty respectable part of town, at any event.’

‘You really are the best of fellows,’ said Richard, much moved by his friends’ generosity and greatly relieved to know that they were prepared to give him their wholehearted support in this outrageous venture. And if, in addition to salving his guilty conscience to some degree, the undertaking also had the effect of staving off some of his creditors temporarily, then that could be no bad thing. As things stood at the moment, even two weeks’ grace would bring about a brief but welcome respite, given that the estate’s next quarter-day was just around the corner, heralding a much-needed input from its tenant farmers.

The earl’s arrival at the front doorstep of Cadogan Place that afternoon was more than enough to cause Charlotte who, despite Helena’s pleas, had taken up her usual position of ‘look-out’ at the window of the first-floor morning room, to jump up and down in absolute glee the minute her eyes fell upon the spanking pair of matching bays and the shiny maroon equipage to which they were harnessed.

‘Oh, Nell!’ she squealed, quite overcome, as she took in Markfield’s appearance. Clad in a superbly cut jacket of blue superfine and pale grey pantaloons, his tasselled black Hessians polished to perfection, he leapt lightly down from the driving seat, tossed the reins to the waiting groom, mounted the short flight of steps two at a time and knocked briskly on the front door. ‘He really is just too divine!’

‘I trust that you do not intend to swoon at his feet as soon as he comes in,’ sighed Helena who, truth to tell, had herself been itching to peep out of the window. ‘What sort of carriage has he arrived in this time?’

‘I believe it is what is known as a phaeton—oh!’ Deeply disappointed, Charlotte spun round and confronted her cousin. ‘But it only seats two, Nell—I understood that I was going to accompany you to visit her ladyship?’

‘That was my intention,’ admitted Helena, somewhat crestfallen. ‘I must confess that I had not expected to have to beard the dragon on my own.’

She was now in something of a quandary, having rather taken it for granted that the dowager’s summons must, as a matter of course, include her companion. More to the point, she could not help feeling that, in view of the recent Barrington incident, her father would not be altogether pleased to hear that his daughter had gone off in a carriage to an unknown destination with a relative stranger. However, she had little time to dwell on this perplexing matter, since Hayward was, at this very moment, ushering Markfield into the room.

As she rose to her feet to greet him, the swift appraisal she managed to give him before he bent over her hand caused her to experience a not dissimilar sensation to her cousin’s but, striving to maintain the ladylike detachment that her mother had spent a good many years instilling into her, she merely inclined her head and bade the earl ‘good afternoon.’

He, in turn, was equally gratified as he took in Helena’s appearance. In an elegantly cut walking-dress of vivid turquoise that enhanced the blueness of her eyes, its fine, soft wool seeming to mould itself to her undeniably shapely form, it was clear that, if this outfit was an example of those she had in her wardrobe, she would have little difficulty holding her own in any company to which he might introduce her. Its fit and finish were clearly stamped with the unmistakable mark of one of Bond Street’s very high-class modistes.

‘I trust that I am not too early?’ he enquired. ‘If you are ready, I think that we should be on our way before the traffic gets too heavy—as you are no doubt aware, a good many people are inclined to make for the Row at about this time and I would prefer to skirt the park well in advance of the crush that usually forms at the gates.’

‘I have but to collect my bonnet and pelisse,’ replied Helena, uncomfortably aware of Charlotte’s eyes boring into her. ‘However, I understand that the carriage you have brought seats only two people, and I am not altogether sure that my father would find it acceptable for me to accompany with you without my female companion.’

Richard blinked back his astonishment but then, having registered her obvious discomfiture, he raised his hands in resignation. ‘Well, I fear that it will be rather a tight squeeze for three of us on the driving seat, but if it is what you would prefer, then, of course Miss Daniels is very welcome to ride bodkin.’

Helena hesitated for just the briefest of moments before replying, then, ‘No, really, my lord,’ she said firmly, ‘I am sure that will not be necessary. My father is, after all, very well acquainted with her ladyship. He could not object to my travelling alone with you.’

A tight smile appeared on Richard’s face. ‘A simple journey from Cadogan Place to Curzon Street in broad daylight can scarcely be considered as clandestine,’ he felt constrained to point out. ‘Especially given that we will be in an open carriage with a groom in attendance at all times. I would hardly have suggested it otherwise, I assure you!’

Suddenly feeling rather foolish, Helena turned away to hide her confusion. ‘No, I must suppose not,’ she faltered, as she made for the door. ‘And now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I will fetch my things and join you downstairs.’

Ignoring Charlotte’s scowl of disapproval, Richard saluted both women and made for the stairs. His forbearance was amply rewarded, however, when, less than five minutes later, Helena descended, adjusting the buttons on her York tan gloves. His eyes lit up in admiration as they registered the close-fitting pelisse, its fabric and colour an identical match to her walking dress, along with a charming chip-straw capote bonnet, daintily trimmed with turquoise velvet ribbons and toning ostrich feathers.

‘A most fetching outfit, if I may say, Miss Wheatley.’ He smiled, as he handed her up into her seat. ‘Very reminiscent of the famed Madame Devy, unless I am much mistaken?’

Helena shot him a surprised glance. ‘You are very well informed, sir. An unusual talent in a gentleman, if I may say so.’

Swinging himself into the driving seat beside her, Richard laughed. ‘I have to admit that, as a general rule, ladies’ couture is not actually one of my stronger points.’ Nodding to the groom to let go of the horses’ heads, he flicked the reins and steered the equipage into the flow of traffic. ‘It just so happens that my grandmother is one of the Devy’s most devoted customers—has been for a good many years, so she tells me.’

As the phaeton swung out of Cadogan Place into Sloane Street, Helena, her thoughts being quite distracted by the pressure of Markfield’s muscular thigh against her own, was momentarily lost for words. She considered trying to inch herself away from his very masculine nearness, but feared that the gentle swaying of the highly sprung vehicle would hardly lend itself to such a hazardous manoeuvre.

Keenly aware of her sudden reticence, Richard cleared his throat and tried again. ‘My grandmama tells me that Madame Devy is in great demand. I understand that she is known to be rather choosy about accepting new clients. You must consider yourself very fortunate to be one of the favoured few.’

‘I am aware that Madame is very well regarded nowadays, of course,’ Helena eventually managed. ‘The truth of the matter is that she is one of my father’s oldest clients and has been making my gowns since before I left the schoolroom. But you are right,’ she added hastily, fearing that he might have considered her offhand remark somewhat conceited, ‘I am most gratified that she is still willing to keep me on her list.’ A little smile leapt unbidden to her lips. ‘Although I sometimes suspect that the fact that my father is always very prompt in his payment of her accounts may have more to do with her eagerness to fit me in, rather than my ability to advertise her skill in the haut monde.’

Richard flashed her a curious glance. ‘But surely that is exactly what you have been doing during these past few months? I rather gained the impression that the whole purpose of your father’s agreement was to ensure that you are brought out into society.’

Carefully evading his gaze, Helena toyed with her reticule. ‘As it happens, my lord,’ she answered reluctantly, ‘Papa did not decide to have the contract drawn up until after he had agreed to receive you.’

Silently digesting this disquieting piece of information, the earl’s brow furrowed but, since the press of traffic was becoming more intense, he found himself obliged to devote his full attention to the road ahead, in order to steer clear of a miscellany of poorly driven vehicles, the drivers of which were all seemingly intent upon hogging the entire carriageway. Consequently, it was several minutes before he was able to formulate his response.

‘Am I to understand that none of my—predecessors was asked to sign that extraordinary document?’

At the clearly discernible frostiness of his tone, Helena stiffened and leapt at once to her father’s defence. ‘Papa was formerly of the opinion that a gentleman’s word was his bond,’ she replied guardedly.

Disturbed at the notion that the stockbroker had considered it necessary to treat him more exactingly than he had dealt with the previous suitors for his daughter’s hand, Richard’s jaw tightened but, trying to keep his tone non-committal, he enquired, ‘May I ask what it was that occasioned him to change his mind in that respect?’

Her discomfiture increasing, Helena shifted uneasily in her seat. ‘He took exception to one or two of the individuals to whom I was introduced.’

‘I take it that you are referring to Lord Barrington and his colleagues?’

At Helena’s nod, a wave of relief swept through the earl’s body, but, sensing her discomfiture, he made an effort to lighten the conversation.

‘Then, please allow me to assure you that neither your father nor yourself need have any qualms about the suitability of my friends,’ he said. ‘Their backgrounds are impeccable, you have my word.’

Thankful that he had not seemed to regard her father’s change of tactics as in any way a personal slight against himself, Helena allowed herself to relax. ‘I do not doubt it, your lordship,’ she returned. ‘I would hardly have agreed to accompany you in this manner had I believed otherwise.’

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Richard offered her a brief smile before going on to say, ‘I trust that you managed to explain to your father why I did not feel able to sign his contract.’

‘N-not in so many words, my lord,’ she was obliged to admit. ‘His physician has insisted upon administering a mild opiate to Papa, in order to prevent him from becoming over-excited. I simply told him that you had agreed his terms. But, you need not concern yourself, sir,’ she hastened to reassure the frowning earl, ‘as soon as he is well enough to discuss the matter, I shall tell him the truth, of course.’

In point of fact, since she had every intention of finding an easy way to extricate herself from this latest attempt of her father’s to launch her into society, she was hoping that the necessity of divulging her perfidy would not arise. But then, as the phaeton inched its way through the press of traffic that was waiting to enter the park gates and she found herself mesmerised by the earl’s highly impressive manipulation of the reins, it was not long before it occurred to her that it would be, perhaps, rather a pity if Markfield should happen to be tarred with the same brush as Viscount Barrington and his ilk. From the little she had seen of his lordship, he did seem to be quite a cut above some of his peers and he had certainly shown her a good deal more courtesy than any of his rivals had done. Nevertheless, as she was quick to remind herself, the only reason that he was here, driving her in this very showy equipage, was not because he had any real interest in developing any sort of acquaintanceship with her, but merely because he was no less eager than his predecessors to get his hands on her father’s money.

‘This is certainly a very fine carriage, Lord Markfield,’ she ventured, after some moments of silence.

‘Isn’t it just!’ replied the earl, with a swift grin. ‘Not mine, however, I’m sad to relate—courtesy of a most generous friend!’

‘It is not difficult to understand why he should place such trust in you, my lord,’ she returned, drawing in her breath in admiration as Markfield neatly feathered the vehicle out of the path of an oncoming and rather badly driven curricle.

Resolutely ignoring the insolent gesture that the curricle’s young driver offered him as he flashed passed, the earl acknowledged Helena’s compliment with a swift smile.

‘You are very kind,’ he said. ‘Although I am bound to admit that the traffic is somewhat heavier than I had anticipated. One gets the impression that the whole of London is heading for the park.’

‘I believe it’s what they call the “fashionable hour”—although I have it on good authority that it more usually lasts for three or four!’ returned Helena, her attention being momentarily diverted by a noisy altercation taking place some distance ahead. ‘We, ourselves, seldom have any need to frequent this part of town at this hour.’ And then, as the highly decorative attire of a passing whipster caught her eye, her cheeks suddenly dimpled. ‘Although I must say that it is not hard to see what attracts them all!’

As yet another poorly driven vehicle rocked across their path, Richard, who was finding that it required all of his, not inconsiderable, driving skill to manoeuvre Braithwaite’s equipage out of harm’s way, was unable to reply. But then, when he had finally edged the curricle safely past Apsley House into the relative serenity of Park Lane, his attention was suddenly distracted by the unexpected sound of his passenger’s smothered laughter. Unable to resist the temptation to see what might have caused such merriment, he took his eyes off the road long enough to glance across at her and was immediately struck by the sudden glowing animation on her face.

Her laughing eyes indicating the source of her levity, Helena, covering her lips with her gloved fingers, in a vain effort to control her rising mirth, whispered, ‘Do look at that fellow’s collar—he can hardly turn his head—and the size of his buttons—they must be quite three inches across! How perfectly ridiculous!’

As his own gaze lit upon the bizarre appearance of one of the occupants in a passing carriage, Richard was unable to prevent himself from joining in her amusement. ‘I gather that it’s considered quite the fashion amongst some of the young swells,’ he said, with a quick sideways grin. ‘But, surely, you must have come across some even more outrageous styles during your recent outings about town?’

Helena’s smile faded. ‘Not really,’ she replied reluctantly. ‘Two of my previous escorts proved to be rather a staid pair of individuals and the last one—Viscount Barrington—seemed to prefer to do his entertaining south of the river.’

‘You were not taken to Vauxhall Gardens, surely?’ Richard choked, well aware of the somewhat questionable reputation that the once-popular pleasure gardens had acquired during his absence from the country. ‘I am hardly surprised that your father should have raised objections!’

‘At the time, neither of us was aware of the unsavoury rumours,’ she replied carefully, irritated that the conversation had once again returned to a subject that, in her opinion, was best consigned to history. ‘Lord Barrington assured my father that it was a most respectable place and, since there were to be two other young ladies in his party, Papa bowed to what he called “his lordship’s better judgement”.’

Well able to imagine the kind of ‘young ladies’ who were known to frequent the usual supper parties given by the ramshackle viscount, Richard managed to bite back his groan of dismay. ‘From the tone of your voice, I must assume that it was on one such occasion that your father found his trust to be somewhat misplaced?’

‘Oh, I am perfectly sure that the resultant gossip cannot have failed to reach your ears, my lord,’ she said curtly. ‘No doubt your acquaintances have done their best to make capital of the event.’

‘Let me assure you that I do not normally hold listening to gossip among my faults, Miss Wheatley,’ replied Richard, somewhat incensed that she appeared to number him amongst Barrington’s cronies. ‘But on this occasion, I have to confess that, when my grandmother informed me that she had heard that you once threw a glass of wine into his lordship’s face, I found myself inclined to commend your perspicacity.’

‘Threw a glass of wine!’

For a fraction of a moment, Helena found herself to be almost incapable of coherent speech but then, to Richard’s utter astonishment, her eyes suddenly gleamed and her lips began to twitch. ‘Is that what the wretched fellow put about?’ She chuckled. ‘Well, I have to say that I am sorry to disabuse you of such a delightful notion, my lord, but I fear that the incident was not nearly so dramatic. The plain fact of the matter is that I was finding his lordship’s attentions rather too—how shall I put it?—assiduous for my liking and, after having repeatedly asked him to desist from his attempts to molest me, I felt constrained to give him a rather hefty shove which, in the event, I fear, caused him to tip his own drink all down his shirt front!’

Richard’s face lit up and he let out a shout of laughter. ‘Good for you, Miss Wheatley—I wish I had been there just to get a glimpse of the look on his face!’ But then, as he considered the implications of Helena’s story, his eyes grew serious. ‘He must have been very angry with you—he did not try to harm you in any way, I trust?’

‘I have to confess that I was far too mortified to wait for his reaction,’ admitted Helena, with a slight smile. ‘I simply vacated the supper booth and made my own way back to the pier. I was obliged to offer the ferry-man quite a large sum of money to bring me back across the river but, as it turned out, the man was most obliging. He insisted upon leaving his scull to take me to the hackney-carriage stand, for which I was very grateful, since I am afraid that I have had little experience of hiring such vehicles. He told me that he had young daughters of his own and even waited until he had seen me safely into what he assured me was “a respectable jarvey’s rig”.’

The earl shook his head, uncomfortably aware of the innumerable ways in which disaster might well have befallen an unaccompanied young lady in such a dubious area.

‘You clearly had the saints on your side that night, Miss Wheatley,’ he exclaimed, as he swung the phaeton into the quieter environs of Curzon Street and finally brought it to a halt in front of Standish House. ‘Your father must have been beside himself when you turned up in a hired hack—no wonder he decided to draw up that contract! Although, upon reflection, it seems to me that the unfortunate episode should have been more than enough to put him off his whole scheme altogether.’

‘Oh, you need have no fear, sir, Papa knows that I am well able to take care of myself,’ she replied airily, her eyes following the earl’s movements as he leapt down from his perch and proceeded to walk round the carriage to hand her down.

At Helena’s somewhat naïve remark, Richard hid a smile, as he led her up the steps to the front door. It seemed to him that Miss Wheatley’s rather suburban upbringing had failed to cover some of the less palatable aspects of society life. But then, as soon as Bickerstaff had ushered them into the salon, where his grandmother was waiting in attendance, he was obliged to dismiss the matter from his mind in order to concentrate on the impending interview.

In spite of herself, Helena could not help feeling just the tiniest twinge of nervousness as she approached the rather autocratic-looking old lady, who was seated on a high-backed chair at the far side of the room. Not that it mattered in the slightest what the countess thought of her, she hastened to assure herself, since—assuming that she managed to play her cards with sufficient skill—any association between the two of them would, hopefully, be very short lived. Nevertheless, she found that she could not control the little tremor of anxiety that ran through her as Lady Isobel raised her lorgnette and proceeded to inspect her minutely from the top of her head right down to the tip of her toes.

‘Well, don’t just stand there, girl!’ commanded the dowager. ‘Come over to the window and let me get a proper look at you!’

Torn between, on the one hand, a fierce desire to retort that she had no intention of being ordered about in such a peremptory manner and, on the other, a deeply instilled supposition that the young were under some sort of obligation to tolerate the idiosyncrasies of a generation much older than themselves, Helena swallowed her resentment and walked over to face the countess.

‘That’s much better! Now, turn around!’

Stifling her indignation, Helena did as she was bidden but, as Markfield’s pensive face hove into her view, she could not resist casting him a fulminating glare. How dared he bring her here to be treated in such an insulting manner! This fiasco was turning out to be even worse than she had feared it might!

In growing disbelief at his grandmother’s discourteous treatment of her guest, Richard watched in awe as Helena, exhibiting nothing of her innermost feelings, stood graciously erect, her chin raised high, and suffered the dowager’s continued appraisal of her person with, he was bound to admit, the most incredible forbearance.

‘Excellent!’

With a satisfied nod, Lady Isobel then bade Helena take the seat opposite her own. ‘Very good posture and admirable self-control, I see!’ she chuckled. ‘I do believe the gel will serve, dear boy!’

Helena, somewhat taken aback at the countess’s words, sat down on the sofa indicated and said nothing, having made up her mind to run whatever gauntlet the dowager had in mind for her with as much dignity as she was able to muster and then, when the two of them were done with their self-indulgent theatricals, to make her escape as soon as it was decently possible.

‘She does have a voice, I take it?’ the old lady then queried, frowning in disapproval at Helena’s continual silence.

‘Grandmama, please!’ protested Richard. ‘Don’t you think you have embarrassed Miss Wheatley quite enough for one day?’

‘Embarrassed her?’ exclaimed the countess, raising her eyebrows. ‘I? The gel don’t look in the least embarrassed!’ And, leaning forwards, she tapped her folded fan on Helena’s knee and asked briskly, ‘Am I embarrassing you, child?’

‘Not in the least, ma’am,’ replied Helena coolly and, having suddenly caught sight of the glint of amusement in her hostess’s faded blue eyes, instantly made up her mind that even if they were intent upon making some sort of game of her, she would refuse to allow either of them to intimidate her. Having already found her own way home on that earlier occasion with little difficulty, the vagaries of public transport were now much less of a mystery to her and she was quite confident that she would have no trouble hailing a cab in broad daylight in this prestigious area.

Lady Isobel nodded her approval. ‘Come along then, child. What have you to say for yourself?’

‘I am not altogether sure what you would have me say, ma’am,’ returned Helena calmly. ‘I was under the impression that I was invited here to take tea with you, not as a servant seeking some sort of position in your house.’

At the dowager’s snort of laughter, Richard’s eyes gleamed with admiration. It was not often that he had the privilege of witnessing at first hand the rather unusual spectacle of someone standing up to his formidable grandparent. And, with such serene assurance, he noted appreciatively. Past experience had taught him that any attempt on his part to try to modify Lady Isobel’s quirkish interview technique would merely cause her to behave in an even more outrageous manner and, since Miss Wheatley seemed to be holding her own rather splendidly, he felt that any undue interference from him looked to be quite unnecessary.

‘Do you know something, my dear,’ the countess then announced, wagging her finger at Helena, ‘I do believe that you have quite the look of your grandmother about you.’

‘M-my grandmother?’

Despite all of her good intentions, Helena’s attention was caught and, leaning forwards, she asked eagerly, ‘You were acquainted with my grandparents, ma’am?’

Lady Isobel raised one shoulder briefly. ‘Barely at all, child—I met your grandmother—Joanna Coverdale, as she then was—at several functions during my own “come-out”. She married her earl at much the same time as I captured my own and, after that, for one reason or another, our paths seldom crossed. However, I do seem to remember that she had a very forthright way with her—not dissimilar to your own, I would say!’

Helena bit her lip. ‘I am afraid that I know very little about my mother’s family,’ she said slowly. ‘My brother and I were discouraged from asking questions about them and it was only after Mama died that my father took it into his head…’ She stopped, suddenly recalling her previous resolve not to allow herself to become embroiled with this rather disturbing family. Glancing over at the ormolu clock on the mantelshelf, she saw, to her relief, that the obligatory half-hour for an afternoon call had almost run its time and, rising to her feet, she dipped a small curtsy to her hostess, saying, ‘I see that it is time I was on my way, your ladyship. It was most kind of you to allow me to come and visit you, but I—’

‘Nonsense!’ interrupted the countess. ‘You cannot possibly go yet. If I am to bring you out, there are a good many things that I need to know about you.’ Then, turning to Richard, she exhorted him to ring for Bickerstaff to bring in the tea things, adding, ‘And then you may take yourself off while Miss Wheatley and I have our comfortable little coze!’

Reluctantly sinking back into her seat, Helena watched in dismay as the earl rose to his feet to carry out Lady Isobel’s request. After casting what she could only assume was meant to be a smile of apology in her direction, he quit the room, leaving her to the mercy of his formidable grandparent.

‘What do you think of him, then—my grandson?’

Taken unawares by the countess’s sudden question, Helena felt herself flushing. ‘I—I cannot say that I have known Lord Markfield long enough to have formed any worthwhile opinion of him, ma’am,’ she replied cautiously.

‘Oh, stuff, gel! You must own that he is rather a handsome beast and quite out of the common! A far cry from those other cheerless profligates to whom you gave their marching orders, I’ll be bound!’

‘He certainly seems to be a very pleasant gentleman,’ faltered Helena, desperately wishing that the subject of the conversation would return quickly and deliver her from this extraordinary woman’s searching cross-examination. Whilst it was not at all difficult to fathom out what lay behind Lady Isobel’s fulsome panegyric regarding her grandson’s superiority, Helena had no intention of allowing the dowager to browbeat her into any form of commitment to him. As far as she was concerned, it was merely a matter of trying to keep up appearances for the short duration of the two to three weeks which she was certain would be ample time for her father to recover sufficiently to receive the news that Markfield was yet another unsuitable candidate for his daughter’s hand.

‘Pleasant! Humph!’ For some moments, the dowager regarded her visitor with an inscrutable expression, then, ‘You must understand, my child, that none of this business has been at Markfield’s instigation. Due to other members of our family having failed to stay the course, my poor grandson—almost the last in his line—has been forced to compromise his own position in order to try to redeem what I can only describe as a grievous dereliction of duty on the parts of his uncle and cousin.’ Lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, she dabbed away a non-existent tear. ‘A very noble sacrifice, as I am sure you will agree, Miss Wheatley?’

‘Oh, indeed!’ Helena choked back the gurgle of laughter that threatened. ‘Most noble.’ Then, after hesitating for the briefest of seconds, she asked curiously, ‘Forgive me if I have mistaken the matter, ma’am, but I was given to understand that your ladyship had quite an extended family living in Ireland?’

‘Ha!’ exclaimed the countess, nodding her head in triumph. ‘My daughter’s family. So you were sufficiently interested in Markfield to have done your homework, it seems!’

Helena shook her head. ‘Not I, ma’am,’ she replied evenly. ‘I believe you must have conveyed that information to my father yourself—you have been one of his most valued clients for a good many years, I know. He certainly seems to hold you in some regard, which is, no doubt, why he was willing to consider Lord Markfield’s petition.’

The countess gave a haughty sniff. ‘As well he might, my girl! Standish has been a name to be reckoned with for over two hundred years. You should be thanking your lucky stars that you have been afforded such an opportunity for advancement. Most of the gels in town would jump at the chance to snaffle Markfield and, without so much as lifting your finger, here he is, yours for the taking!’

At Helena’s lack of response to this pompous assertion, a puzzled frown crossed her face. Fixing her young visitor with a penetrating look, she let out a sigh and her tone softened. ‘Come, my child. Unless I have mistaken matters, you seem to be entirely reluctant about the whole affair. Surely the boy cannot have done anything to offend you?’