be done by a man. She must have a husband or give up her home entirely.’
‘Sophie, please…’ Charlotte begged. ‘You are being excessively impertinent, when Lord Braybrooke has been so kind as to invite us to share his carriage. He does not wish to hear…’ She stopped in confusion.
‘Oh, my dearest, I did not mean to put you to the blush,’ Sophie said, contrite. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
What had come over her was a strong desire to pierce Lord Braybrooke’s self-assurance, to stop him looking at her in that half-mocking way and take her seriously. But why? Why did it matter so much?
They had come to the end of the carriageway and the driver turned the barouche skilfully and set out on the return journey, while the two girls chatted, their disagreement forgotten.
Richard was intrigued, not only by Miss Hundon, but by the relationship which existed between the two girls. That they were close he did not doubt, but they were so different. Miss Hundon was outspoken and opinionated, almost the blue stocking he had decried, and her dress sense left a great deal to be desired but as he was not considering her for a wife, he told himself it was of no consequence.
On the other hand, Miss Roswell, who did have many of the attributes he had so carefully listed to Martin, including her own fortune, did not stir him to any kind of passion, either of desire or anger. Her skirts, brushing against his leg in the carriage, did not make him want to increase the pressure, to touch her, to kiss her, pretty though she was. Perhaps that would come, when he came to know her better, when she relaxed a little in his company and opened out to him. At the moment she was stiff and tense, almost as if she were afraid of him. Miss Hundon was not afraid.
He pushed thoughts of Miss Sophie Hundon from him and turned to converse with Miss Roswell, trying to bring her out, to show her there was nothing to fear, but she had suddenly gone mute. He could get nothing out of her but ‘Yes, my lord’ or ‘No, my lord’ or ‘Indeed?’
Sophie, now that his attention was engaged elsewhere, was able to relax a little. The carriage bowled smoothly along and she found herself thinking that they must be seen in the park more often, but it would not do to be too frequently in the company of Lord Braybrooke. He was not the only eligible in Town and he needn’t think he was! They certainly could not drive out in Lady Fitz’s town coach; they would be a laughing stock.
She would buy an equipage of her own, one with the Roswell crest emblazoned on the door, and drawn by matched cattle which would be the envy of the ton. The thought brought a smile to her lips, a smile not lost on Richard Braybrooke, who was taken aback by the way it lit her whole countenance and made what he had hitherto considered a somewhat unexceptional face into a beautiful one. He was lost in wonder and a sudden arousal of desire which made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. It was the second time she had done this to him, and he resented it.
He was supposed to be searching for a wife, a wife with very particular virtues, not lusting after a poor country cousin. Did she know the effect she was having on him? Was it deliberate? If so, she might be agreeable to a little dalliance if he made it worth her while. It might serve to bring him back to his usual salubrious self and he could then concentrate on the task in hand, wooing the heiress.
He allowed himself to savour the prospect for a few delightful seconds before banishing it. He was not in the army now, he could no longer take whichever wench fluttered her eyelids at him in invitation. He had never had to pay for his pleasures, but neither had he bedded an unmarried gentlewoman. The idea was unthinkable. And yet he had thought it. He shook himself and made more strenuous efforts to engage the attention of Miss Charlotte Roswell.
‘Tell me about Madderlea,’ he said, deciding that was surely a subject on which she would find it easy to converse, but apart from telling him that it was near the north Norfolk coast and very extensive, she volunteered no information. In fact she seemed very agitated. Did she think he was more interested in her inheritance than in her? He smiled and dropped the subject.
When they drew up outside Lady Fitzpatrick’s front door, he jumped out to hand Charlotte down while the coachman knocked at the door, then turned to help Sophie.
About to step down behind her cousin, she held out her hand for him to grasp, but instead she found his lordship’s hands spanning her waist. Startled, she said nothing as he lifted her down and deposited her on the pavement. He did not immediately release her, but stood smiling down at her, his brown eyes looking into hers, almost as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She moved her gaze to his mouth and wished she had not. It was a strong mouth, so close to hers, she could feel the warmth of his breath. Even as she looked, it seemed to move closer. Surely he was not going to kiss her, not here, in the street? Why couldn’t she move away? Why couldn’t she speak?
‘Miss Hundon,’ he said, and managed to convey a deal of meaning in it. ‘I enjoyed our little sparring match. I hope you will afford me the opportunity of a return bout before too long.’
She had no idea what he meant and her legs were so shaky she thought she would fall if he released her, but she did not intend to be intimidated. She stepped back and found the ground stayed beneath her feet, the sky was in its correct position above her head and, though her breathing was erratic, she was in no danger of swooning. She forced a smile. ‘My lord, such a manly pursuit as fisticuffs is hardly in my repertoire.’
He grinned and turned to escort her to the door, where Charlotte stood looking back at them. ‘You and Miss Roswell do ride, though?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
He looked up at Charlotte as they approached her. ‘Miss Hundon tells me you both ride,’ he said. ‘Would you care to join Mr Gosport and me for a gentle canter tomorrow morning? If you have no mounts, I can easily find some for you.’
Charlotte hesitated, looking to Sophie to indicate whether or not she wanted her to accept. ‘I am not sure what engagements we have,’ she said.
‘Why, Charlotte, we said we were going to bespeak a carriage tomorrow and Lady Fitzpatrick recommended Robinson and Cook, don’t you remember?’
Charlotte remembered no such thing, but she smiled and said, ‘Oh, yes, I had quite forgot. I am sorry, my lord.’
‘Another time, then,’ he said, smiling affably. ‘But, forgive me, who will advise you on your purchase? Lady Fitzpatrick…’ He left the sentence hovering in the air.
‘We shall take Luke, our groom, with us and he will consult the proprietor,’ Sophie said.
‘I doubt that will ensure a satisfactory deal,’ he said. ‘Allow me to offer my services.’
Charlotte appealed to Sophie and, receiving a slight nod, turned back to him. ‘That is excessively kind of you, my lord, we should be most happy to accept.’
What else could she have done? Sophie asked herself, after he had arranged to call for them the following morning at ten and taken his leave. It would have been ungracious to have spurned his help, especially when she acknowledged they probably needed it.
‘He has fastened himself to us like a leech,’ Charlotte said as they went up to their rooms to divest themselves of their outdoor clothes. ‘It is Madderlea and your fortune he has in his sights and I wish it were not so. We shall both be ruined when the truth comes out that I am not mistress of Madderlea and have no fortune.’
‘Why?’ Sophie threw her bonnet on the bed and followed it with her cloak, glad to be rid of the out-modish garments. ‘Young gentlemen of the ton are forever playing tricks on people. They bam their way into select gatherings, pretend to be coachmen or highwaymen and no one thinks anything of it. Why shouldn’t we?’
‘We are not young gentlemen.’
‘No, but we have gone too far to turn back now. We will tell everyone when we return to Leicestershire at the end of the Season. No harm will be done because you are going back to Freddie and as for me…’
‘Yes? What about you?’
‘Unless