A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)

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 deep, mellifluous voice. Whenever he spoke she was aware of its resonance and when he was addressing her it was as if he was running a feather over her skin. Even over deeply intimate places. Just the thought of it sent a delicious shiver running through her.

Perhaps she was becoming an old maid. She had observed how elderly ladies could turn positively skittish in the presence of a personable gentleman. They would simper and fawn over him in the most embarrassing way. Was that what was happening to her? She stopped, aghast at the thought. Good heavens, did she have so little self-respect that she was prepared to make a fool of herself over a handsome face? It must not be.

She pulled her pelisse a little closer and set off again, striding out purposefully along the track beside the stream. She would not allow herself to become such a figure

of fun. She was an intelligent woman with more strength of character than that.

Anxiously she thought back over her ride yesterday. Thankfully she had done nothing, said nothing to show herself infatuated. Indeed, she had barely spoken to Lord Randall and when they had parted he had not rushed to help her dismount, but remained on his horse and at a distance, as if eager to get away. In fact, looking back, he had done nothing at all to win her good opinion.

‘So the attraction is all on your part,’ she told herself. ‘And you would do well to nip it in the bud, since it can bring you nothing but trouble.’

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed the discomfort she felt in walking until it became positively painful. Something was rubbing against her left foot with every step. Coming upon a fallen tree trunk on the edge of the water, she sat down to investigate. The cause of the pain was soon discovered, a piece of grit had lodged itself in her boot. It had not only worn a hole in her stocking but had rubbed away the soft skin at the side of her foot, which was bleeding and throbbing painfully. How she had come so far without noticing it was a mystery. She looked around to make sure she was alone then removed her ruined stocking and dipped her bleeding foot into the stream. She gasped a little as the cold water rushed over her inflamed skin but after the initial shock she found the cool stream very soothing.