Part 4 (2/2)

But I do, she realised, even as she spoke. Everyone was perfectly civilised about her status, she was invited to many events, received by all but the highest sticklers. She would never get vouchers for Almack's, of course, never be presented at court. Her marriage prospects were non-existent, at least amongst the ton, who would object to her birth in an alliance with one of their sons, or amongst the rich middle cla.s.s families who wanted impeccable bloodlines for their money.

It had never mattered so much before, Phyllida realised. She could not recall the time when she was ignorant of her status, of the oddity of her parents' marriage and what it meant for her. She had her own interests, her business, her friends and her ambitions for Gregory and that was enough. It had to be. There were daydreams, of course, moments of sadness. Of more than sadness when she had held friends' babies in her arms, but she had learned to control those foolish hopes.

But Ashe Herriard had shaken her. She liked him and she was attracted to him. It would always have been impossible, of course. The consequences of the choice she had made when she was seventeen meant marriage was out of the question anyway.

Yet somehow, with this man, it hurt. They had only just met and she might yet come to find she only felt mild attraction to him, or she might discover something to dislike in him. He could well have paid her no more attention after the ball. But it was as though someone had just told her for the very first time that she was unmarriageable: shock, a sense of loss, a dull pain somewhere under her breastbone.

Foolishness, she scolded herself. A kiss, a pair of green eyes, a sense of strength and virility, that is all it takes to fill you full of pointless yearnings. It was useless to repine and wish that things were different. They were not and that was that.

The thoughts had run through her mind in seconds and Gregory was still watching her with trouble in his brown eyes. 'I will tell him we've a crisis in the kitchen or something and take him to White's,' he offered.

'No, don't be silly.' Where the bright smile came from she had no idea. 'We will have a dinner party, it will be a pleasure. Now, who else can we invite? I think we must stick at eight of us, otherwise we will be uncomfortably cramped. Shall I see if Miss Millington's parents will allow her to come? If we invite a married couple, then I cannot see they will have any objection. Lucy and Cousin Peter would be ideal-I am sure Mrs Millington would find a baronet who is a Member of Parliament respectable company for her daughter.'

'That's six, including us. I'll invite the Hardinges as well, shall I?'

'Mrs Millington will be in a second heaven! An earl, a baronet, a viscount and a baron. I cannot believe she can refuse to allow Harriet to come. I will call tomorrow. What day did you tell Lord Clere?'

'I said I must check dates with you and would get back to him. He seemed pleased.' Gregory frowned again. 'He had better not be trifling with you, Phyll.'

'No, of course he is not. No one trifles with me. Now, shall we see if Wednesday will suit everyone?'

'A letter for you, my lord.' Herring proffered a silver salver.

Ashe ran his finger under the red-wax seal and scanned the single page. 'My first dinner invitation,' he remarked to his father who was seated in the chair opposite him, long legs outstretched as he studied the surveyor's account of the state of Eldonstone, the Hertfords.h.i.+re country house.

'Bachelor affair?'

'Apparently not. It's from Fransham. I met him at Tattersalls today. He says he's invited Lord and Lady Hardinge-he was at the ball yesterday-and a Sir Peter Blackett who is an MP, with his wife, and a Miss Millington, whoever she is.'

'Your mother is threatening a dinner party.' Lord Eldonstone made a note against a column of figures and tossed the bundle on to a side table. 'I suspect we won't get away with only seven sitting down to eat.'

'Eight, if Fransham's sister is acting as hostess.'

Ashe could have sworn he kept his voice neutral, but his father arched an eyebrow. 'Miss Hurst? She looked an intelligent and refined young woman. Unfortunate for the poor girl to have had such a careless father.'

'Yes,' Ashe agreed. And she is mysterious, and smells of jasmine and has an edge to her tongue. And I cannot get her out of my head. 'Is that report making depressing reading?'

His father grimaced. 'About what I expected. You neglect a place that size for as long as my father did, and screw every penny out of the land while you are at it, and the results are never going to be good.'

'Sounds expensive. Should I have taken more care with the amount I have just spent on horseflesh?'

The marquess shook his head. 'We can cope easily enough with this, and when we get the estate turned around and the income recovers it will look after itself. I was thinking of going down there next week for a few days-do you want to come?'

They had agreed on board s.h.i.+p that Tompkins would organise the essential cleaning and restocking of the house, engage more servants and generally get it habitable before the family visited. Establis.h.i.+ng themselves in society, launching Sara and holding endless meetings with lawyers and bankers had to take priority over the country estate.

'So soon?' Ashe acknowledged to himself that he was ambivalent about the Hertfords.h.i.+re house. London was a city and he felt comfortable in cities. But rural England was a foreign country. Green and lush as though there was a monsoon every day of the year, foxes to hunt, not tigers. Tenants to get to know, not hundreds of subsistence peasants totally at their raja's beck and call. And part of him knew that it was the country estates that defined the English n.o.bleman: the unknown house was his fate and his responsibility.

Ashe smiled grimly to himself. He had been trained to fight-this was simply another battlefield, a more subtle one that would require all his diplomatic skills.

'Just a flying visit. We'll leave your mother and sister here.'

'I'll come, with pleasure.' His father wanted his support, although he would never admit it, and the sooner they got this over with, the better. 'After all, there is no waltzing in the countryside.' And no distracting Miss Hurst, either.

Chapter Six.

By the time Wednesday came around Ashe, like the rest of his family, had an array of gilt-edged cards to sift through and they were all keeping Edwards, the marquess's new secretary, busy with acceptances and the occasional regret.

But this dinner party would be a modest beginning to his London social life, he supposed, eyeing the narrow house in Great Ryder Street. When he mounted the steps and knocked, only to have the door answered by a maid, he realised just how modest. Male staff only above stairs in the afternoon and evening was the rule, Perrott had explained, although to find female staff anywhere but in the ladies' bedchambers was a novelty to Ashe.

Inside there was none of the oppressive splendour of the Herriard town house, for which he envied them. But it was elegantly, if simply, decorated and furnished and he suspected Phyllida's eye for style and her nose for a bargain had contributed to that.

'Clere! Glad you could come. Welcome.' Fransham came forwards with outstretched hand and began to introduce him. Hardinge greeted him as an old acquaintance and Ashe liked the direct friendliness of his wife. The Parliamentary baronet, Blackett, was thin and serious, but his wife made up for it with plump joviality and then there was a Miss Millington, who was introduced as 'My sister's friend.' From the shy glance she directed at Fransham, Ashe suspected there was something more to her presence than that.

Phyllida came in as he was agreeing with Miss Millington that the suns.h.i.+ne that morning had been very pleasant. 'Lord Clere will consider it the depths of winter, I imagine,' she said as she smiled in greeting. 'Good evening, Lord Clere. Confess, you do not consider our feeble spring suns.h.i.+ne worthy of the name.'

'I will admit to not having been warm since about Gibraltar,' he countered. 'But I have high hopes that the summer may reach the temperature of an Indian winter, Miss Hurst. Meanwhile, I am thawing in the kind welcome I have received in London.'

Hardinge chuckled. 'A diplomat, forsooth.'

'I was, after a fas.h.i.+on. I acted as an aide for several years to my great-uncle, the Raja of Kalatwah, and that involved some diplomacy.'

'In which languages?' Sir Peter enquired.

'Hindi and Persian. I speak some native dialects with rather less facility,' Ashe admitted.

'We shall have to enlist you to the Foreign Office.' How serious he was, Ashe could not tell.

'It would be most interesting, I am sure, but I will be much engaged with our estates for some time. My grandfather was not able to give them the attention they required.' Which was code for, Spent all his time and money drinking, gaming and wenching while the place crumbled about him. By the look of it the other men understood exactly. They had probably known the old devil, Ashe thought.

'Dinner is served, ma'am.'

The maid must be their only upstairs servant, Ashe concluded as the party paired up to go through. He was the highest-ranking male guest so Phyllida took his arm and showed him to the seat at her right hand. He was flanked by Lady Hardinge, but with such a small party it was easy to talk to everyone and no one seemed to have any inhibitions about conversing across the dining table.

'You are in town for the Season, Lord Clere?' Lady Hardinge enquired.

'My mother wished my sister to come out this year and, arriving from India as we have, there is much to arrange as you may imagine. Staying in London for the Season seemed sensible. But I am merely an appendage to the ladies of the household, I can hardly be said to be doing the Season.'

'I think you will find you are, whatever your intentions,' Lady Blackett said with a chuckle. 'What a fortunate thing that with the sea voyage and so forth you are out of mourning. I imagine that you too will have matrimonial ambitions, Lord Clere. From what I hear, the gossip is all about the das.h.i.+ng new bachelor who has joined the Marriage Mart.'

'I have certainly not done that, ma'am. It sounds quite alarming.' He must find himself a wife, true, but he had no intention of making himself a target.

'Terrifying,' Hardinge agreed in a stage whisper, causing general laughter. 'Avoid Almack's like the plague, is my advice,' he added.

'But have you not read Pride and Prejudice, Lord Clere?' Phyllida enquired. When he shook his head she quoted, '”It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” All the matchmaking mamas will have you in their sights already, I fear.'

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