The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 8

"I am sure the fire in the parlour will suffice," she said.

He bowed his way out of the room.

"Thank goodness I brought some extra clothes!" said Caroline, who had s.n.a.t.c.hed her portmanteau and hatbox from the curricle before it was taken away. "I am longing to get out of these wet things. I would lend you one of my dresses, but I am afraid they will be too small," she added in dismay, looking at Annabelle.

"Never mind, I will go down to the parlour and dry myself by the fire," said Annabelle. She removed her gloves, bonnet and pelisse, and set them down on the window ledge, then tidied her hair as best she could.

"I will join you as soon as I have changed," said Caroline, stripping off her wet clothes.

"Would you like me to help you?"

"No, thank you, I believe I can manage, and if not, I will ring for the landlord's wife. Do not let me delay you, Aunt Annabelle, I will never forgive myself if you catch cold."

Satisfied that Caroline could not get up to any mischief in such a short s.p.a.ce of time, in a respectable inn, Annabelle went down to the parlour.

She opened the door . . . and then hesitated, because the parlour was already occupied. A gentleman was seated by the fire. Steam was rising from his clothes, showing that he too had been caught in the downpour.

She was just about to apologise for intruding when he stood up and turned towards her, and the words died on her lips.

"Annabelle!" he said in surprise, adding more formally, "That is, Miss Langley."

"Daniel!" she said.

And indeed it was he, as handsome as ever, with his dark hair arranged a la Brutus, his brown eyes, his aquiline nose and his full mouth. His figure was hardened by exercise and his height topped her by six inches: no mean feat, as she herself was five feet eight inches tall.

Memories came rus.h.i.+ng back: a house party the previous summer, where she had danced with him, finding him the most amusing partner she had ever had.

She remembered her delight when she had found herself alone with him in a rowing boat the following day, and how they had both laughed when a frog leaped into the boat.

And she remembered the way in which he had taught her to drive, taking her out in the country lanes, where he had shown her how to control his horses and how to guide his carriage. When he had put his arms around her in order to show her how to hold the reins, she had started to tingle. It had been the most delicious sensation, and she had turned her face up to his in surprise and delight. He had seized the moment and kissed her, and it had been quite magical.

Then other, less welcome memories returned: that he had been called away by the death of his brother and that, once the mourning period was over, he had not sought her out as she had expected him to do.

She had been forced to realize that, whilst she had been falling in love with him, he had been indulging in nothing more than a mild flirtation.

And now here he was again, standing before her.

"What a surprise. I did not expect to meet you here," he said.

"Nor I you. I am just pa.s.sing through. But I must not disturb you . . ." she said, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Not at all, it is I who should vacate the parlour and leave it to you."

"There really is no need . . ." she said.

There was a silence, and then they both laughed.

"We are talking to each other like strangers!" he said. "There is no need for either of us to retreat. We can be comfortable here together, can we not? But you are wet," he said. "Will you not sit by the fire?"

She took the seat he held out for her gladly, for her damp clothes were starting to make her feel cold, then he sat down opposite her.

"You are just pa.s.sing through, you say?"

"Yes. We are on our way to stay with friends."

"We?"

"My niece and I. She is upstairs at the moment, changing her dress. We were caught unawares by the rain, and as we were travelling in my curricle we were soon drenched."

"Ah, yes, your curricle. I am glad you have continued with your driving, and put your inheritance to such good use. I should have congratulated you on your good fortune, but I have not spoken to you since the lucky day."

"Thank you. It was totally unexpected. Great-aunt Matilda had always declared her intention of leaving everything to my brother, but when he married he displeased her and she changed her will and left everything to me. It was no loss to Alistair, as he already had a fortune, and it was a great piece of good luck for me. Although if I had not inherited it," she added ruefully, "I would not have bought such a das.h.i.+ng carriage, and I would probably have been travelling in a sedate coach and be perfectly dry now!"

He laughed. "You cut quite a figure."

She looked at him enquiringly.

"I saw you once, in town. You handled your cattle very well," he said admiringly.

She warmed at his praise. "I was taught by an expert," she replied.

"Those were good days," he said. "And what does your niece think of her das.h.i.+ng aunt?"

"She likes me well enough at the moment, for I have promised to teach her to drive."

"Indeed? You must think a great deal of her then."

"I do. I like her very much. She is a good girl, for all her headstrong ways, and she will make a fine woman when she is fully grown. But that is not why I made her the offer."

"No?"

"No. You see, it was the only way I could take her thoughts from an unsuitable attachment."

"Ah. That would never do. Attachments must be suitable, must they not?"

There was something in the way he said it that made her feel it was more than a general comment.

Daniel came from an old and well-respected family, whilst her family engaged in trade.

So that is why he found it so easy to forget me, she thought.

She felt downcast, but her pride came to her aid and she said, lightly, "Of course." Then, changing the painful subject, she said, "I was sorry to hear about your brother's death. He was too young to die."

"He was."

The subject had been badly chosen and the atmosphere became sombre. They fell silent until they were interrupted by the landlord.

On seeing them together, he apologised profusely for having recommended the parlour to Annabelle when his wife, unbeknownst to him, had recommended it to the gentleman. He gratefully accepted their a.s.surance that they were already acquainted, and that they did not object to sharing.

He asked them if they would be dining.

"Yes, indeed. Both my niece and I would like a hot meal," said Annabelle.

"The ordinary is very good, but maybe you would like something else?" the innkeeper asked.

"What is the ordinary?" asked Annabelle.

"Steak pie with minted peas and tender potatoes, followed by plum tart and cream," said the landlord.

"That sounds very good. I'm sure my niece will like it, too," said Annabelle.

"Three ordinaries, then, landlord, if you please," said Daniel.

The atmosphere had warmed again and despite herself Annabelle was looking forward to further conversation with Daniel. But no sooner had the landlord left the room than Caroline entered it. She was dressed in a startling gown of green silk, which was suitable for a woman twice her age "Goodness!" said Annabelle, gazing at the vision which was Caroline, and thinking that her niece looked as though she had raided the dressing-up box and put on one of her mama's old gowns. She did not say so, however, but gravely introduced her, saying, "May I present my niece?"

"Charmed," said Daniel, rising and bowing.

Caroline glowed, and dropped a small curtsey.

"Caroline, this is Lord Arundel," said Annabelle. "We are old . . . acquaintances."

"Really, Aunt Annabelle, you never told me you knew such fascinating people," said Caroline.

Annabelle turned her laugh into a cough, for Caroline's attempt at coquetry had all the sophistication of a newborn colt's attempts to walk. However, she thought that Caroline could do worse than to try her newly discovered feminine charms on Daniel, for he was a gentleman and she would come to no harm with him.

Caroline was invited to sit by the fire.

"Thank you," she said charmingly to Daniel, with a dimple.

She swept her gown beneath her, producing a wonderful rustling noise, but unfortunately she spoiled the effect by knocking over a stool in the process. However, Daniel picked it up without comment and Caroline seated herself by the fire. Then she began to fascinate him with her conversation.

"Tell me, Lord Arundel, have you ever met Lord Byron?" she asked.

"I have not had that honour," he said.

"They say he is a terrible man, and yet I cannot believe it. If he were truly so terrible he would not have chosen to write a poem about an innocent little child."

"Ah. You are talking of his renowned work Childe Harold's Pilgrimage?" he asked.

"I am," she said graciously.

Daniel's eyes twinkled, but he kindly refrained from saying that Childe Harold's Pilgrimage was definitely not about an innocent little child. He managed to retain a straight face, whilst Annabelle sighed in silent exasperation at her niece's ignorance.

Caroline was saved from further blunders by the arrival of dinner.

The food was good and the hot meal was welcome. Whilst they ate the plum tart, Annabelle could not help thinking of the previous summer, of eating plums on a picnic and afterwards going to a ball and dancing with Daniel, of being in his arms . . .

And then she was forced to pay attention, for they were talking of the London galleries, and her opinion was being sought. The conversation moved on to the theatres, until at last Annabelle said, "I believe we must retire."

Caroline had by this time talked herself to a standstill. She took a warm leave of Daniel before leaving the room, so that Annabelle and Daniel were alone for a minute.

"Miss Langley," he said, bowing over her hand.

He held it a fraction too long, and there was something tender in his touch, or so it seemed to Annabelle. But then she warned herself against making the mistake she had made a year ago and bid him goodnight.

"It was good to see you again," he said, as reluctantly he dropped her hand.

"And you." She smiled and walked out of the room.

"What a delightful gentleman," said Caroline, as they went upstairs.

"Yes, indeed," said Annabelle.

And she could not help thinking that, in all her life, she had never met one more delightful.

Annabelle gave a sigh of relief as the landlord's wife drew back the curtains the following morning, for the sun shone out of a clear blue sky.

She washed and dressed before Caroline was awake, glad of the landlord's wife's a.s.sistance, and then she helped Caroline to dress.

"What a coincidence, meeting Lord Arundel," said Caroline, as they went down to the parlour for breakfast. "I wonder if we will see him again this morning?"

Annabelle privately wondered the same thing, and although she would not have asked about him, she was not sorry that Caroline did so.

"The gentleman?" enquired the landlord. "Left early this morning, he did, just after dawn. Said he had urgent business to attend to."

"A pity. He was a most amusing companion," said Caroline with dignity.

Oh, yes, he was, thought Annabelle with a pang. The most amusing companion she had ever met with.

"What will you ladies have for breakfast?" asked the landlord.

"Chocolate, I think, and hot rolls," said Annabelle, rousing herself.

Caroline agreed, and they ate a hearty meal before setting out once more to Whitegates Manor.

Annabelle allowed Caroline to take the reins for a short while before reclaiming them, and was pleased to see that her niece showed promise. She told her so, and Caroline wriggled with happiness.

The rains of the previous day had taken their toll and in places the road was so deep in puddles that it was almost like a ford, so that the going was slow. They stopped for lunch at a tavern and did not reach Whitegates Manor until four o'clock in the afternoon.

They turned off the road and rattled through an impressive pair of gates. The manor itself was an imposing residence. Large windows flanked the front door in perfect symmetry, gleaming in the summer sun. Gravel walkways surrounded it and meandered invitingly through formal gardens and over immaculate lawns.

The curricle swept around the turning circle and rattled to a halt. A couple of grooms ran forwards as Annabelle and Caroline descended, looking about them with interest.

"There you are at last! Wondered what had happened to you!" said Lord Carlton as he came down the impressive stone steps to greet them.

Lord Carlton was a jovial man of some fifty years of age. He was running to fat, but by virtue of a good tailor he managed to disguise it. His coat, a well-fitting garment of black, was complemented by cream breeches and buckskin boots. His linen was simple, and consisted of a starched s.h.i.+rt and a simply tied cravat.

Annabelle took his hands. "We are glad to be here."