Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife. Mary Nichols
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who suggested we should meet this afternoon?’
He wondered whether to deny anyone had, but realised she was too astute to believe it. ‘Why, I do not exactly recall. It might have been your brother, but it might have been Sir Ashley…’
‘Not you?’
‘No, certainly not me.’
‘Out of uninterest?’
‘Now, how am I to answer that? To say yes would not be chivalrous, would it? And to say no would imply a certain curiosity and that, too, would not be chivalrous. I beg you excuse me from answering.’
He was gratified to see her lips twitch into a smile. ‘You are excused.’
‘Your brother said you would like to marry.’
‘That was his idea, not mine.’
‘Why not? Do you prefer to be single?’
‘My lord, that is a foolish question and I will not answer it. And I thought we had decided you would cease your questions and answer mine.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘There, you see! You prefer to be single. Why is it different for men? They can boast of being bachelors, but women must be ashamed of being spinsters.’
He gave an elaborate sigh. ‘It is an unfair world, Miss Chalmers; however, I am not a bachelor, but a widower.’
She turned towards him and realised the rather languid look had changed and his eyes had darkened at some remembered pain. ‘Oh, then I beg your pardon.’
‘Granted. I have been in that sorry state for six years now.’
‘Six years? Surely you could marry again if you chose?’
‘An’ I could, if I could find someone to suit me.’ His brow had cleared again and he was once more ready to treat the world lightly.
‘Are you so particular?’
‘I fear I must be.’ Again that sigh, but it was accompanied by a smile.
She did break into a laugh then, understanding what her brother and Sir Ashley were concocting and he, hearing that laugh, knew she had realised what was afoot. ‘My lord,’ she said, a twinkle in those grey eyes, ‘shall we play a little game with them?’
He stopped to give her an exaggerated bow, took her hand and lifted the back of it to his lips. ‘It will be my pleasure.’ He offered her his arm and she took it, still smiling. Not that there was anything to smile at; she was no nearer a solution to her dilemma and really Max was an idiot.
They continued in this way, heads close together, pretending to be absorbed in each other’s conversation, though it was nothing but polite trivialities, until they had circumnavigated the park and were approaching their entry point, when she stopped to wait for Max and Ash to catch up with them.
The little party left the park and here they parted, the men bowing and Rosamund dropping a curtsy. She could not wait to tell Max exactly what she thought of his antics and turned on him as soon as the other two were out of earshot. ‘Maximilian Chalmers, I am thoroughly displeased with you. Do you know Lord Portman guessed what you and his friend were up to and he was highly entertained by it? I, on the other hand, was mortified.’
‘I see you took his arm when it was offered and went on your way, heads together in a most intimate fashion.’
‘What could I do, but treat it as a jest? I assume it was a jest.’
‘Not entirely. His lordship is looking for a wife.’
‘So he might be, but he told me he was very particular. He is a macaroni, so vain that I wonder he does not carry a mirror about with him, and you were trying to throw him at me. He can surely find himself a pretty young wife who will overlook his strange mannerisms.’
‘I believe that when you come to know him, you will appreciate his qualities.’
‘Come to know him! Max, how am I to come to know him? You are surely not intending to continue with this farce?’
‘It is no farce. The man needs a wife and you need a husband, if you are not to go to Lady Bonhaven. It cannot hurt to meet him again.’
‘You mean you have made the arrangements?’
‘Not exactly, but I have hinted we shall be at the fireworks in Ranelagh Gardens on Saturday evening.’
‘I have no intention of going. And I doubt Lord Portman will go either. He has no use for me and I have none for him. Do you think I am so desperate?’
‘But you are, are you not?’
‘No,’ she lied. ‘I would rather be a companion to Lady Bonhaven. And why, in heaven’s name, would Lord Portman even consider me?’ She paused, as a new thought came to her. ‘Unless you have offered an inducement?’
‘What inducement could I offer a man like him? He is rich as Croesus. No, he simply wants a wife who will not outshine him.’
That hit home and hurt badly, but she endeavoured to turn it against the gentleman in question. ‘Oh, I should certainly not do that! I never met such a shining example of a coxcomb.’
‘That is all put on. He fancies himself an actor.’
‘Worse and worse. I beg you to say no more on the matter.’
He fell silent and she fumed the rest of the way back to Holles Street, where he took his leave. She went into the almost empty house and stood looking about her. It had been her home for most of her life, but it was home no longer. And tomorrow she must go with her aunt to be interviewed by the elderly Lady Bonhaven and accept whatever she was offered. ‘Oh, Papa,’ she murmured. ‘Did you know what a pickle you were going to leave me in?’
She climbed the stairs to her room to take off her hat. The chamber was empty of all but the bare necessities. A trunk, standing on the floor at the foot of the bed, was half-filled with clothes Janet had begun to pack. How much would Lady Bonhaven expect her to take with her? And what about her books and her escritoire? Would she be allowed those?
She sat on the side of the bed, from which the hangings had already been removed for cleaning before being sold, and contemplated her future. That led to thoughts of her brother. He had offered her a home, but had made it abundantly clear he did not want her. He was doing his best to marry her off. And to that macaroni! But even as she derided Lord Portman, she realised there was more to him than met the eye. When they were alone and talking seriously, he had suddenly stopped his mincing gait and matched her stride with his and that high effeminate tone of voice dropped to a more masculine level. What sort of a man was he? Why could he not find himself a bride in the conventional way?
Harry was ringing a peal over Ash, but his friend was unrepentant. ‘No harm was done,’ he said, as they made their way slowly along Piccadilly towards the City.
‘A great deal of harm was done. She guessed what her brother was about and passed it off as a jest, but I knew she was mortified. I felt very sorry for her.’
‘So did I. Poor thing, she is like to drown in deep water unless someone throws her a lifeline.’ Ash was an ex-naval man and his conversation was littered with nautical phrases. ‘And you must admit she is not the antidote we had been led to expect. Not a beauty, I grant you, but strong and healthy enough to bear children. She could be the mother of your heir with no trouble.’
‘I wish to God I had never told you about Beth. I don’t know why I did. I never told anyone before.’
‘That was because you have been dwelling on the problem and hoping to find a solution. I have given you one. You could at least think about it.’
‘I would rather not.’
‘Why