A Lady for Lord Randall. Sarah Mallory
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‘You cannot blame him for telling the truth,’ Mary pointed out.
‘Of course I can,’ replied the earl’s fond sister. ‘He has been too long in the company of soldiers. There is not a romantic bone in his body. And he is shockingly bad at compliments.’
‘I think Harriett is trying to say it is best to have no expectations where I am concerned, Miss Endacott.’ Lord Randall replied gravely, but there was a smile lurking in his eyes and Mary chuckled.
‘Thank you for warning me.’
‘No,’ went on Harriett with an exaggerated sigh. ‘My brother is a confirmed bachelor.’ Her eyes crinkled up as she added mischievously, ‘But we live in hope.’
* * *
‘Well, Mary, did you enjoy your ride today? It has certainly brought the colour to your cheeks.’
Mary smiled at Mrs Bentinck’s remark when she entered the drawing room before dinner that evening and she replied quite truthfully that she had indeed enjoyed her outing.
‘And how did you find the earl?’ asked Mr Bentinck. ‘Was he as cold and unsociable as last evening?’
‘Every bit,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘Apart from one brief exchange he barely said a dozen words to me the whole time.’
They had not actually ridden together, he had made a point of keeping his distance for most of the ride, but she had been aware of his presence and had enjoyed knowing he was there. A little too much, if she was honest. The fact that they had hardly spoken to one another meant at least that there had been no chance for them to quarrel.
Mary was surprised and not a little shaken by the thought. Why should she not want to fall out with the earl, if they held opposing views? Heavens, could she be developing a tendre for him? She was far too old for that, surely? It was immature schoolgirls who became infatuated with a gentleman without any knowledge of his character, his thoughts or opinions, not sensible ladies of four-and-twenty. As Mary settled down to her dinner she had the uncomfortable suspicion that she was neither as mature nor as sensible as she had thought.
* * *
Randall and his sister returned to Somervil in silence. Hattie might have been tired from her ride, or anxious about the gathering rain clouds, but Randall suspected she was cross with him because he had not played the sociable gentleman she wished him to be. This was confirmed when they returned to the house and met Theo crossing the hall. He greeted them cheerfully.
‘Ah, there you are, Harriett. Did you enjoy your ride, my love?’
‘I did,’ she replied. ‘But I am going to tell Robbins to dose his master with Tincture of Spleenwort. Justin is decidedly liverish today.’
‘I am decidedly not.’
Harriett rounded on him.
‘You hardly said a word while we were out and you virtually ignored Mary. I was mortified.’
Randall ushered his indignant sister into the morning room. Theo followed and shut the door upon the wooden-faced servant in the hall.
‘You deliberately set out to be odious!’ fumed Harriett.
‘No, I set out to enjoy the ride. It was never my intention to entertain anyone.’
‘Mary is not anyone, Justin, she is my friend!’
‘All the more reason not to raise false expectations, then.’
‘There is very little chance of that,’ snapped Harriet. ‘She must think you quite the rudest man she has ever met.’
Randall frowned at her. ‘My life is in the army, Harriett. Women—ladies—play no part in it and never shall. You should know better than to play matchmaker with me.’
‘I was not,’ she protested, not very convincingly. ‘But I would have you be kind to Mary. It has not been easy, since her parents died, and although many would not approve, she is determined to earn her living in the best way she can.’ His brows rose and Hattie said impulsively, ‘Let me tell you about her?’
‘No. Harriett, I have neither the patience nor the inclination to be kind to your charitable causes.’ He paused and tried for a milder tone. ‘I have deliberately not spoken of Miss Endacott to you, nor have I made any enquiries about her, because I know that should I do so, your immediate reaction would be to start planning a wedding. And in this instance you must know better than I that Miss Endacott would not be a suitable match.’
‘She is no longer a part of our world, but her birth is perfectly respectable—’
‘Enough!’ Randall barked out the word and silence fell. He sighed, saying more gently, ‘Hattie, I am off to Brussels to meet the greatest threat to this nation that we have ever faced. I have no time for dalliance.’
Theo touched his wife’s arm, saying in his gentle way, ‘Let him be, my love. Your brother is about to go to war, his mind will not be distracted by such frivolities.’
Randall was grateful for Theo’s intervention, but his brother-in-law was not entirely correct. Randall was distracted by Mary Endacott. Uncomfortably so, which was why he had deliberately avoided her during their outing. There was no denying she rode well and looked extremely attractive on horseback. Her plain russet-coloured habit might be made of serviceable twill, but it did nothing to hide the curves of her body. He had been obliged to keep his eyes from her, and having spoken with her the previous evening he knew how easily she might draw him into conversation, so he had kept his distance for most of the ride.
Harriett was regarding him in reproachful silence and his conscience stirred. He would be leaving in a few days and did not wish to fall out with her.
He gave a wry smile. ‘I behaved badly, Hattie, I admit it. Forgive me.’
She pursed her lips, not completely won over. Theo chuckled.
‘I have never heard Randall make such a handsome admission before, my dear. You would be wise to accept it, I think.’
‘Oh...oh, very well. But I hope you will be a little more courteous when the Bentincks come to drink tea with us.’
Randall said nothing, reluctant to commit himself, and when Harriett suggested they should change out of their muddied clothes he was glad to make his escape.
* * *
A night’s reflection did nothing to restore Mary’s peace of mind and after breaking her fast in her room she went off for a long walk, hoping to regain her equilibrium before facing her hosts. Her favoured route took her past Somervil, where she was in the habit of calling upon Harriett, but knowing that the earl was in residence she set off in the opposite direction, preferring to take the rocky path through the woods rather than risk running into him.
Her strong attraction to Lord Randall at their first meeting must have been due to the amount of wine she had consumed that night. She had not considered herself inebriated, but there was no doubt that Mr Bentinck’s cellars were well stocked and the quality of the wines superb, so in all likelihood she had imbibed more than usual during the course of the evening. It was easily done, she knew, especially if one was anxious or distracted and there was no doubt that she was anxious, about her business, her finances and the long journey ahead of her. As for distraction, the presence of Lord Randall in the Bentincks’ drawing room had certainly caught her attention.
It was not that she had thought him the best-looking man in the room; tall, lithe men with handsome faces bronzed by the sun had never attracted her before. She preferred intelligent, cultured men. Scholars. Indeed, she had always considered hawk-like features such as Lord Randall’s to look a little predatory.
Nor was it his title—she despised the power that rank and wealth conferred upon a man, the inbred certainty that he might behave exactly as he wished, however badly. Perhaps the attraction was those blue eyes that seemed to burn into her. Or his