An Escapade And An Engagement. Annie Burrows

of your age enjoy.’

      ‘Life can be so unfair,’ Lady Jayne said to Lord Ledbury softly, completely forgiving him for every harsh word he had uttered, every criticism he had levelled at her. When a man was in the throes of a painful, thwarted love affair, it was bound to make him a little short-tempered.

      ‘Of course you do not want anyone to say unpleasant things about your … friend. I shall be only too pleased to meet her, and help her in any way I can.’

      In fact it would be quite wonderful to be the one giving advice to someone else, instead of constantly being on the receiving end of it. Even if it was only on matters of fashion and etiquette.

      ‘Somehow,’ he said with a smile, ‘I never doubted it.’

      Was that a third compliment? She positively glowed with pleasure.

      But then his expression turned hard and businesslike once more.

      ‘I have already told you that I am in Town primarily to find a bride,’ he said. ‘And, since our families would definitely approve of a match between us, I propose to make it seem as though I am trying to fix my interest with you. And you would do well to make it appear as though you reciprocate that interest,’ he said quite sternly, ‘if you want to continue seeing Lieutenant Kendell. Though I warn you, I will not allow this covert operation to interfere with my primary objective. Which is to find a woman who is worthy of holding the title of Countess of Lavenham. Is that clear?’

      She turned to look out of the carriage as though somebody she knew had caught her eye. As though Lord Ledbury had not just cut her to the quick with one throwaway remark. After all those compliments, genuine compliments, she had begun to think that he quite liked her. But now he’d made it plain that he would rather not have to spend any time with her at all.

      ‘Abundantly,’ she replied coldly. ‘Though,’ she observed after a moment or two, ‘I cannot help but remark that I think you are carrying your sense of duty too far.’

      ‘By which I assume you mean you think I ought to marry for love.’

      Yes! If he was in love with Milly then he ought to marry her, and that was that. Why, earls married widows with shady reputations, or even actresses upon occasion. It caused a bit of a scandal—but when had what others thought ever stopped a man of rank from doing just as he pleased?

      ‘It is the only reason one should marry …’

      ‘Well, there we will have to agree to differ.’

      Oh, the man was impossible. But there was no point in trying to make him see how foolish he was being. Apart from the fact he was a man, and men always thought they knew best, they were only—as he’d put it—working together under a flag of truce.

      And yet she couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him. The poor man must be in hell, being in love with one woman whilst feeling duty-bound to marry another. True, she had been packed off to London to be married off, but at least her affections had not really been engaged elsewhere. He could not even elope, as her aunt had done—not when he had so many responsibilities. He was not that kind of man. She had only met him the night before, but already she could tell he was determined always to do the right thing. No matter what the personal cost. Why, he wouldn’t even take Milly shopping in case it gave rise to the suspicion that the woman he loved was his mistress. Even though most men of his class would have made her his mistress in reality, without batting an eyelid.

      Well, she would not say any more upon that topic. Not only would it be like prodding at a decaying tooth, but they did not know each other well enough to share those kind of confidences.

      Though she would do whatever she could to help his lady-friend. Apart from any other consideration, she relished the chance to be really, truly useful to someone for the very first time in her life.

      ‘Oh!’ she said, clapping her hands in glee. ‘I have just had a brilliant idea. I shall be in Conduit Street tomorrow. I have to purchase some new gloves. If you could arrange for Milly to loiter outside the front of Madame Pichot’s at about ten o’clock I could pretend to recognise her, and introduce her to Lady Penrose as an old friend.’

      He looked at her with approval, making her swell with pleasure when he said, ‘Yes, I think that could work.’

      Not for long. She sighed. The first thing Lady Penrose would do, upon her introducing a new friend, would be to write to her grandfather and enquire if Milly was proper company for her to keep. And as soon as he wrote back, disclaiming all knowledge of any such person amongst her acquaintance, the game would be up. But there was no saying how long it might take for a letter to reach him if he were not at Darvill Park for any reason. So they might have a few days before their ruse was discovered.

      And in that time she would do all she could to help the pair who, for reasons of stupid custom—because he was all bound up with doing his duty rather than following his heart—could not be together even though they plainly should be.

      ‘Tell me how I might recognise her,’ she said. ‘What does she look like?’

      ‘Milly? Oh, she is …’ He looked at her, a puzzled frown on his brow. ‘She is quite a bit taller than you. Dark hair and eyes. Strong. Plain of face,’ he said, his eyes wandering over her features individually and softening. ‘Nothing much to look at at all, really.’

      And yet he loved her. She was plain, and poor, and yet the eyes that could look as hard as chips of granite turned all soft and smoky when he thought about her.

      Because they had shared all those hardships and she’d come through them all with flying colours.

      Jayne knew she would never have been able to nurse a man through such a difficult time. She had no skills, no experience. And would never be allowed anywhere near a sick room in any case.

      She turned her head away abruptly while she grappled with a fierce stab of jealousy for the girl who, despite all her disadvantages, had managed to capture the heart of a man like this. A man unlike anyone she’d ever met before. Now that she wasn’t quite so cross with him she could admit that she found his rough-hewn face ruggedly attractive. Even that terrible scar, which at first sight had made him look a bit scary, now only served as a reminder that he was a battle-hardened soldier, a man to be admired for his bravery.

      She heaved a deep sigh. If any man in London deserved to find happiness with the woman he loved, then it was this man.

      It was such a pity he couldn’t see it for himself.