Sometimes he addressed his remarks to Charlotte, smiling at her and flattering her, but rarely turned to Sophie. She was glad of that. He was far too conceited for her taste and she sincerely hoped Charlotte would not be such a ninny as to fall for a bag of false charm.
It was several minutes before he could bring himself to speak of the true reason for his visit. It had been a mistake to come, but Martin had nagged at him unmercifully, reminding him of his grandfathers ultimatum and in the end he had concluded it could do no harm. Little Miss Roswell was pretty; she had a rosy glow about her and an air of insouciance he found at odds with her position as heiress to a great estate.
But the other, the country cousin, disturbed him. Her eyes, intelligent, far-seeing, humorous, seemed to follow his every move, to understand that he was playing a part dictated by Society. He was not behaving like his normal self and he was afraid she would call his bluff and expose him for the clunch he felt himself to be, a feeling with which he was not at all familiar. How could she do this to him?
He had come to ask Miss Roswell to take a carriage ride with him, but she would have to be chaperoned and it was evident that was the role Miss Hundon was to play. Her watchful eyes would be on him every second, protecting her cousin, reducing him to an incompetent swain.
My lady, he said, addressing Lady Fitzpatrick. I came to ask if you and the young ladies would care to join me in a carriage ride in the park tomorrow afternoon.
Why, how kind of you, she said, while both girls remained mute. I should very much like to accept, butOh, dear, I am afraid I have undertaken to visit Lady Holland. She paused. But I do not see why you should not take the young ladies. Miss Hundon will chaperone Miss Roswell and their groom can ride alongside. If you are agreeable, of course.
I shall look forward to it. He rose and bowed his way out, leaving two thunderstruck young ladies and a very self-satisfied matron behind him.
Well Lady Fitzpatrick let out her breath in a long sigh. I never thought you would engage the attention of someone so high in Society so soon.
No doubt he has heard of my Sophie paused and hastened to correct herself my cousins fortune. Madderlea is a prize worth a little attention, do you not think?
Charlottes face was bright pink. That is unkind in you, Sophie, she said. Do you not think he likes me for myself?
Sophie was immediately contrite. Of course, he does, my dear, who could not? But you must remember that you, too, are superior and have something to offer.
Quite right, her ladyship said, after asking Sophie to repeat herself. Now, we must discuss clothes and what you will say to him, for though it is one thing to attract his attention, it is quite another to keep it.
What do you know of the gentleman, my lady? Sophie enquired, for Charlotte seemed to be in a daydream, and someone had to ask. Apart from the fact that he is grandson to the Duke of Rathbone. Is he the heir?
Indeed, he is. His father was a second son and did not expect to inherit, particularly as the heir was married and in good health, but the old Duke outlived both his sons. There is a cousin, I believe, but she is female.
Can she not inherit? Charlotte asked.
Unlike Madderlea, the estate is entailed. Richard Braybrooke came back from service in the Peninsula to find himself Viscount Braybrooke and his grandfathers heir.
A position, I am persuaded, he finds singularly uncongenial, Sophie put in.
Yes, he is a most congenial gentleman, Lady Fitzpatrick said, mishearing her. Such superior address and conduct can only be the result of good breeding.
Sophie choked on a laugh, making Charlotte look at her in alarm. If good breeding means one is insufferably arrogant, then he is, indeed, well-bred, she murmured, while wiping tears of mirth from her face with a wisp of a handkerchief.
I do not know what ails you, Sophie, her ladyship said. Your cousin is also well-bred and she is most certainly not arrogant. Indeed, it were better if she could adopt a more haughty attitude, for she is far too shy.
I cannot change the way I am, Charlotte said.
Nor should you, Sophie said. If the gentleman cannot see that you are sweet and kind and would not hurt the feelings of a fly, then he is blind and does not deserve you.
The gentleman could see it. He was well aware of Miss Roswells virtues and it only made him feel unworthy. She deserved to be wooed for herself, by some young blood who appreciated the very qualities he found so cloying. He wanted and needed someone with more spirit, someone to challenge him as Miss Hundon had done. When he had said as much to Martin, his friend had laughed and reminded him of his list of requirements. Challenge had not been mentioned at all. You have hardly had time to make a reasoned judgement, Dick, he had said. But then reasoned judgement and instinct did not go hand in hand.
He called for the young ladies the following afternoon, not at all sure he was going to enjoy the outing. It might be the way Society dictated a man should court a lady, but it was not his way. It was too artificial. He felt a sham, dressed to make a killing in double-breasted frockcoat of dark green superfine, soft buckskin breeches and curly-brimmed top hat. He was not averse to dressing well, but to do so to catch a young lady smacked of hypocrisy.
Sophie and Charlotte were waiting in the drawing room for him. There was still a keen edge to the wind and so Charlotte had chosen to wear a blue carriage dress in fine merino wool which almost exactly matched the colour of her eyes. It was topped by a blue cape and a fetching bonnet trimmed with pink ruched silk in a shade that echoed the rose in her cheeks. She looked delightfully fresh and innocent.
Sophie, on the other hand, determined not to shine, was dressed in grey from head to foot and would not be persuaded to change her mind, when Charlotte said she had made herself look like a poor relation.
But that is exactly what I am, Charlotte dear, she had said. I am your chaperon, after all.
There was no time to go back to her room and change, even if she had wanted to, for his lordship was announced at that moment and, after the usual courtesies, they made their way out to his lordships barouche. And what a carriage; it made Lady Fitzpatricks town coach, which stood beside it ready to convey her ladyship to her appointment, look even shabbier.
It was a shining black affair with the Rathbone coat of arms emblazoned on both doors and seats comfortably upholstered in red velvet. The driver, in impeccable uniform of tailcoat, striped waistcoat and knee breeches, was sitting on the box, whip in hand. His lordship put a hand under Charlottes elbow and helped her into her seat, then turned to do the same for Sophie, but she was already climbing in, disdaining his assistance. He smiled at this show of independence and took his own seat and, giving the driver an almost imperceptible nod, they set off, with Luke riding demurely half a head behind on Charlottes little mare.