A Most Unsuitable Match. Julia Justiss
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‘Younger sons must make their own way,’ she acknowledged, firmly yanking her thoughts away from another more scandalous and all-too-attractive younger son who’d been making his own way in the world. ‘You had no taste for the army, I take it.’
He grimaced. ‘With the wars ended, there’d be no way to distinguish oneself by bravery, and who would want to be posted in some colonial backwater, enduring the heat of India, or the storms and humidity of the Indies? No, I fear I’m just a solid Englishman, perfectly content to never leave these shores.’
She curbed the impulse to reply that she would love to explore beyond England’s shores. And squelched the whisper of scepticism that said he was telling her what he thought she’d prefer to hear.
Why wouldn’t he? He’d probably been raised from his nurse’s knee to make himself agreeable in company.
Instead, she smiled and said, ‘Why would a true Englishman want to be anywhere else?’
‘My sentiments exactly.’
‘A political career didn’t interest you, either?’
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘Pandering to a lot of rabble in a clutch of grubby villages to win yourself a seat in Parliament? Decidedly not. And as for the government—well, a career in the diplomatic service is likely to land you at some point in the heat of India or the humidity and storms of the tropics! I’ll keep my feet firmly planted in English soil. What about you? Testing your wings in the placid pool of Bath before venturing into the treacherous waters of London?’
‘Something like that.’ Knowing there could never be any successful union without complete honesty, she added, ‘If you know anything of my...family situation, you would know that being in Bath is...more suitable now.’
He frowned and her heart sank. Rather than honestly acknowledging her circumstances, if he truly was unaware of them, had she blundered into making him suspicious that she was not as blameless a young maiden as she appeared before they’d hardly begun to get acquainted?
Then his face cleared and he smiled. ‘I suppose we all have skeletons in the cupboard. Let’s speak of something more pleasant. I take it from the ladies’ greetings that you are only recently arrived. Has your aunt subscribed you to the balls at the Assembly Rooms? Quite refined, although of course nothing to rival London.’
‘I believe she has.’
‘Excellent. I shall count upon the pleasure of leading you into a dance at the next cotillion ball, then.’
The sound of boisterous voices ahead drew their attention. They both looked over to see a group of soldiers entering, one of whom, scanning the room, spotted them and gave a wave. ‘Fitzroy-Price, old fellow,’ he cried, leading the group over. ‘Just knew there had to be someone among all these octogenarians with red blood in his veins.’
‘And the prettiest girl in the room on his arm,’ one of his companions observed.
‘Well, don’t just stand there!’ the first one said. ‘Introduce us!’
‘I’m not sure your chaperon would thank me for making these rascals known to you,’ Lord Halden said, looking uncertainly at the newcomers. But after several raised their voices, protesting his unfairness, he capitulated. ‘Miss Lattimar, may I present Lieutenant Lord Chalmondy Dawson, a friend from childhood, and Lieutenants Trevor Broadmere and Austen Truro, whom I know from university. One could hardly find a more capital group of fellows—for rousting about. But how do you come to be here?’
While Dawson explained the unit containing the former college mates had set up an encampment to conduct training exercises west of the city, and had come into town in search of some jollity, Pru’s eye was caught by a moving flash of scarlet as another soldier entered the Pump Room. He, too, looked around and then beckoned for a uniformed man already in the room to come join him.
Lieutenant Johnnie Trethwell.
After a short exchange, the newcomer plucked Trethwell by the sleeve and led him towards their group.
Pru drew in a sharp breath. Would Trethwell greet her by name—revealing she was already acquainted with just the sort of experienced adventurer society would assume a girl of scandalous reputation would seek out, reinforcing the image she was trying so hard to dispel?
While she waited, almost dizzy with anxiety, looking away as the two men approached, another soldier called out to the approaching men, greetings and genial insults being exchanged after the newcomers arrived. Even though she’d been deliberately ignoring him, the wave of awareness Trethwell generated when he grew near telegraphed his presence.
While she struggled with that, Trethwell’s companion said, ‘Lord Halden! Heard you’d landed here after bouncing out of Cambridge. Persona non grata with the pater in London now, are you?’ he added with a laugh—which her escort acknowledged with a thin smile.
‘Lieutenant Markingham, Miss Lattimar,’ Lord Halden said. ‘Always did have an acid tongue. And...’ He paused, his eyes scanning the Lieutenant.
‘You’re not acquainted with Trethwell?’ Markingham asked.
‘Trethwell?’ Lord Halden repeated—while the adventurer, whose amused expression, after a glance at her face, faded to a mask of politeness, stood by silently. ‘Sounds familiar. Ah, yes! Isn’t that the family name of the Marquess of Barkley?’
‘It is,’ Trethwell replied.
‘Then I was at Cambridge with your brother, James. Lord Halden Fitzroy-Price,’ he said, according the soldier the slightest of bows. ‘You are the scapegrace youngest brother who ended up in the army, I take it?’
Did Pru see or only imagine the flicker of anger in Trethwell’s eyes before his lips quirked in amusement? ‘At your service,’ he drawled, returning a much more elaborate bow.
‘I sincerely hope not,’ Lord Halden said. ‘Miss Lattimar, if I may escort you back to your aunt? I fear she would consider these rowdy comrades less than suitable companions for an innocent young lady.’
Ignoring the boos and laughter his dismissive comment created, the Duke’s son clasped her arm and led her off.
‘Sorry to be so presumptuous, Miss Lattimar,’ he said. ‘Most of that group were questionable enough. But your aunt would likely chastise me soundly were she to learn that I’d had the bad judgement to introduce you to a Trethwell. With the Lieutenant’s eldest brother holding so elevated a title, the family is still received, even though rumour says their estate is mortgaged to the hilt. But the younger brothers are penniless rakes to a man, with the Lieutenant reputed to be the most infamous of the lot.’
On the one hand, as a member of an infamous family herself, Pru could sympathise with the anger she glimpsed beneath Trethwell’s mocking tone and exaggerated bow. She knew all too well what it was like to be tarred with the same brush for a relative’s transgressions. On the other, she could hardly fault Lord Halden for trying to protect her reputation.
Would he be so concerned, once he learned about her circumstances? Or would he conclude that she no longer deserved such consideration?
She hoped he would end up being as fair as Lieutenant Trethwell. She didn’t yet know enough about Lord Halden’s character to accurately judge whether or not they would suit. But if he should decide to pursue her, she couldn’t fail to recognise that he didn’t just fulfil, but wildly exceeded, every requirement on her list.
He wasn’t only a respectable gentleman, but one of high degree, from an ancient family.
He wasn’t going to pursue a career in the rough and tumble of politics, which would require residing for months in the gossip hotbed of London, or interested in the army, which would take him from home for months or years at a time. No, he, like many a younger son, appeared to be destined for the church.
Waiting to receive an appointment, probably in some charming village far removed