Lord Clifford's Dilemma Read online

  LORD CLIFFORD'S DILEMMA

  BY MARINA OLIVER

  Lord Clifford meets Elizabeth when his ward Annamarie announces she means to marry her brother Sir Henry.

  Not only is Henry under age, Elizabeth controls his fortune. And sixteen-year-old Annamarie has been falling in love with unsuitable men for several years.

  Until he can resolve this complication he cannot turn his attention to courting Elizabeth.

  She, in turn, is wary of love after being cruelly jilted when she was just seventeen.

  Lord Clifford's Dilemma

  By Marina Oliver

  Copyright © 2011 Marina Oliver

  Smashwords Edition

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Cover Design by Debbie Oliver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

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  See details of other books by Marina Oliver at

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  AUTHOR NOTE

  I wanted to set a novel in Brighton, but I also used Elizabeth's schools and her defence of popular novels, plus her disillusionment with her former fiancé Sir Percy, as background for this story.

  LORD CLIFFORD'S DILEMMA

  BY MARINA OLIVER

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth cast an ironic glance at her mother as she closed the door. If she were not able to find humour in most things, and laugh, her situation could be intolerable. Half an hour earlier Lady Markby had been bemoaning the fact that none of her bosom-bows had bothered to call on her for the past week. Dressed, just in case someone called, in a delightful morning dress of purple satin, with a matching turban, both scattered with pearls, she reclined languidly on her day bed. There she could overlook the Steine, and could watch fashionable Brighton visitors parading, and her chief enjoyment was in commenting acidly on their costume or companions.

  The advent of Lady Palgrave, by no means a bosom-bow, and someone Lady Markby normally stigmatised as a foolish jumped-up daughter of tradesmen, had been greeted with enthusiasm. She was an audience. She was unlikely to argue. She would have to listen to and agree with Lady Markby's opinions, and Elizabeth knew this one-sided conversation would last for at least an hour. Meanwhile Lady Palgrave's young companion was waiting in the drawing room, alone and doubtless bored.

  Elizabeth went slowly down the stairs. What could she do to entertain a sixteen-year-old girl she had never met? Would she perhaps enjoy playing with the kittens, a delightful trio of black and white fluff the kitchen cat had produced a few weeks ago? Or did she consider herself above such simple amusements?

  Annamarie Kirkland, briefly introduced, was apparently in Lady Palgrave's charge. Elizabeth was uncertain of the precise relationship. Was she a governess, a companion, or even a distant cousin to the child? Elizabeth knew that Lady Palgrave was impecunious, her husband having left her with the smallest possible jointure and huge debts. She did not own a house in Brighton, and Elizabeth doubted she could afford to hire even a small one in the Season. The one she had hired for her own family was outrageously expensive, even though not on the more exclusive Marine Parade. Lady Markby had said there would be more to watch on the Steine. So the child was not a guest of Lady Palgrave.

  She would soon discover the facts. Elizabeth opened the drawing room door and walked in. For a moment all she could see was the back of her brother Henry. Recently down from Oxford, he aspired to belong to the dandy set, but somehow failed to achieve his ambition. She recognized the pale yellow pantaloons, just the wrong shade for fashion, and the olive green coat, tight rather than well-fitting. His beaver hat, a little too large so that he needed to push it up from his forehead every few minutes, was cast aside on a nearby sopha, together with gloves and an ebony-headed cane. He was bending over somewhat awkwardly, and as he swung round at the sound of the door opening, she saw, clasped in his arms, the demure child, dressed in a simple white muslin round gown suitable for her years, whom she had left in the drawing room just a few minutes earlier.

  Her first emotion was outrage that a guest in their home should be treated in such a fashion, and then she saw the complacent look on Annamarie's face, and stifled a grin. The little trollop was enjoying Henry's gallantry, if that was what it could be called. She could not, however, condone it, so she forced herself to speak severely.

  'Henry! What in the world are you doing?'

  Henry glared at her, his expressive boy's face flushing, but he did not let go of Annamarie. With one arm still round her waist he faced Elizabeth, flung up his head, and gave her a belligerent stare. He was thin, but would probably fill out in a few years, and not require so much padding on his shoulders.

  'I am greeting my betrothed,' he said. 'Annamarie and I plan to marry the moment I reach my majority and no longer have to abide by your unreasonable decrees, and when I can control my own fortune instead of having to exist on the pittance you grant me.'

  Elizabeth strode across to the window while she mastered her feelings. While she wanted to laugh at his obvious embarrassment, she was angry at his having put himself in such a foolish position. She swung round to face them, and spoke calmly.

  'Indeed? Perhaps Miss Kirkland's parents will have something to say about that.'

  'Her parents are dead,' Henry answered, the usual triumphant note he employed whenever he thought he had bested his sister in an argument creeping into his voice. 'And fortunately for her she has no interfering brothers or sisters,' he added.

  Elizabeth's lips twitched. He imagined she enjoyed her task of attempting to control him, while in reality she longed for it to end. He would not, however, believe this.

  'But she has a guardian, I assume. What does he say to this betrothal? Or could it be he doesn't know of it?'

  The girl, who had been looking with a calculating air at Elizabeth while clinging to Henry's arm, smoothed back a curl which had, due to Henry's embrace, escaped from the ribbon which confined it, and gave her a brilliant smile.

  'He won't mind when we tell him,' she said, her voice scarcely more than a breath. 'He dislikes me, is always impatient with me, and will be thankful to be rid of the charge when we are wed.'

  Elizabeth bit back a tart reply. If the child really was so unprincipled as to enter into a betrothal without the knowledge, let alone the consent, of her guardian, perhaps he would be glad to be rid of her. But not by marrying her to Henry. Irritating as Henry often was, she did not wish to see him ruined by marrying when he was no more than a boy. This child, moreover, did not look the type of girl who would steady him. She would do her utmost to prevent such an imprudent marriage. Henry would not reach his majority until the following summer, and he was still too volatile and irresponsible to take on the duties of a husband. She ought to be able to restrain him for that length of time, and meanwhile could hope his infatuation would end, or Annamarie would find another suitor.

  'Let us sit down and talk calmly,' she suggested.

  After a few moments Henry nodded, and guided Annamarie over to a sopha, sitting beside her while Elizabeth took a chair opposite.

  The child was delicately made,
with dark curly hair and huge violet eyes. The older girl could quite understand why men would feel protective of her fragile loveliness. They never felt protective of her, she thought, with a brief pang of envy, soon suppressed. She could well feel stifled with too much protection. Some called her a managing female. She was too tall, too competent, and by no means fragile. Annamarie cast Elizabeth a wistful smile and hung her head slightly, but as this resulted in its resting on Henry's shoulder, Elizabeth confirmed her original suspicion that she was a minx, far less innocent than her childish appearance suggested.

  She surveyed Henry with resigned amusement. Her brother was shorter than she was, and had always resented it, as well as the fact she was five years his elder and effectively controlled his income. He had the same silky blond locks, his eyes were a paler blue than her own, and his features rather girlish, though promising greater firmness as he grew older.

  'Who is your guardian?' she asked Annamarie, striving to keep her tone friendly.

  Henry replied, and Annamarie looked up at him adoringly. Elizabeth felt a strong desire to shake them both.

  'You wouldn't know him. He moves in the best circles and you haven't been to London for years, since Sir Percy jilted you. It's Lord Clifford. Baron Clifford. He has an estate nearby, in Hampshire, and is renting a house here in Brighton.'

  Elizabeth took a deep breath to calm herself. Henry only cast Sir Percy Royle in her teeth when he was seriously rattled. He thought to discompose her, not understanding she had, years ago, given fervent thanks that she had not after all married Sir Percy.

  'Crispin Clifford?' she asked. 'His house is a few doors away, I believe?'

  'Have you met him?' Annamarie demanded, and her voice lost the breathiness of before.

  It was pitched high, slightly harsh, and Elizabeth had a sudden vision of her a few years older, a complaining shrew. She told herself she was being unfair, the child was probably nervous.

  'He has been pointed out to me,' she said mildly.

  It had been Lady Markby who had indicated him to Elizabeth, from her vantage point by the window.

  'He's a hard man, from all I hear,' she'd said. 'Wealthy, though. No end of silly chits have chased him, but he despises all of them.'

  It was no wonder he was courted, she'd thought then. She judged he was in his early thirties. Tall, with dark, wavy hair, always elegantly attired, without adopting the wilder extremes of fashion, handsome of face and figure, he was all Henry aspired to be. She had never met him. Was he as arrogant as her mother implied, and impervious to all the lures cast out to him?

  Perhaps Annamarie was correct in her judgement of him. If he was as hard and uncaring as her mother suggested, he might well greet the prospect of ending his guardianship of her with some relief.

  'How did he come to be your guardian?' she asked. He was unmarried, and from the little she knew seemed an unlikely choice to take over the care of a young girl.

  'It wasn't Crispin, at first. It was his father, who had been one of my father's best friends, who was left my guardian, but when he died three years ago I was passed over to the son, like a parcel. And all he does is tell me I must obey him now.'

  That clearly rankled, and Elizabeth felt a twinge of amusement. She wondered how often, and on what occasions, Lord Clifford had found it necessary to admonish his ward.

  'And Lady Palgrave? Is she a relative?'

  'No, of course not,' she said dismissively. 'I don't know what her family is, but it certainly is not one of the best. Crispin employed her a few months ago, as my chaperone, when he decided we should all come to Brighton. I would have preferred to spend the Season in London, but he would not, preferring to hire a house here for the summer, and said I could learn how to go on in Brighton society for this year. And perhaps, if I behaved,' she added, her voice once more shrill, 'I could have my Season next year.'

  That, at least, seemed wise of him.

  'You won't need to,' Henry told Annamarie. 'Once we are married, and I have control of my money, I'll get rid of the London tenants and we can spend as much time at my town house as you wish.'

  Already, Elizabeth thought, he was throwing away his money. From his time at Eton he had been reckless, a gambler, and when his own guardian had departed to become a tea-planter in India, and had asked her to take charge, she had been forced to rescue him from innumerable scrapes. Because the remaining trustee had been indolent, and allowed her free rein over the finances, she had also been in the position of denying him the full use of his fortune, and he had, perhaps naturally, been resentful of an older sister's control.

  She would be only too happy to relinquish the task, but felt apprehensive of the consequences.

  'How did you meet?' she asked.

  'At one of the Old Ship assemblies,' Annamarie replied. 'It was odious, no one asked me to dance until darling Henry begged for an introduction. Lady Palgrave was quite impossible, she knew so few people, and made no push to find partners for me.'

  And had been equally remiss in her chaperonage, if she had allowed the pair in front of her to meet unsupervised, for sufficient time to permit an attachment and betrothal to form.

  Before she could reply the door opened again and Lady Palgrave came in. Small and plump, dressed in a manner more suited to her charge than a woman of her age, with anxious, pale blue eyes and thin, wispy and faded hair, she was clearly flustered.

  'Oh, my dear Annamarie, I promised to meet his lordship at Donaldson's library, and we are late. He will be getting impatient. But my dear Elizabeth, it has been so pleasant chatting with your mother. Such an interesting lady. Come, child, bid Miss Markby farewell. We must hurry.'

  *

  Lord Clifford frowned as his butler entered the library where he was busy writing a letter to his agent. He had said unequivocally he was to be undisturbed.

  'Well, Dawson, what is so important that my precise orders are disobeyed?'

  Dawson, who had known his lordship from the cradle, and took no heed of those peaked, dark eyebrows, coughed apologetically.

  'It's a young man, my lord. The same I saw yesterday with Miss Kirkland. By the bathing machines.'

  His lordship chuckled.

  'When you were taking your medicine to cure your gout? I've told you, man, fewer sips at my port would be more likely to cure it than bathing in cold sea water.'

  Dawson smiled.

  'Quite, my lord, and as I have informed you many times, I take sips only of the Madeira wine. I dislike port. The young man. He says it is most urgent he sees you. He is just a touch distrait, I opine.'

  'You do, do you? Oh well, you have ruined my train of thought, so show him in.'

  He leaned back in his chair, and surveyed with interest the young man who was ushered into the room. The lad, and he was very young, certainly appeared nervous, running his fingers round to loosen his cravat.

  'Sir Henry Markby, my lord,' Dawson intoned.

  He retreated, but Lord Clifford noticed he did not quite close the door. He smiled inwardly. He did not object to Dawson knowing his business, and was well aware the butler would allow himself to be hung, drawn and quartered before he would reveal anything of his master's business to another soul, even his wife, the cook.

  Sir Henry was fair, of medium height, and had yet to fill out from his youthful slenderness. He was fresh-faced, and could not have been forced to use a razor for long. He was blushing, and a muscle over one eye was twitching. Clearly not knowing what to do with his hands, he stood twisting them in front of his gaudy flowered waistcoat. His shirt points were a trifle too high, and his coat, of a lighter blue than normal, was pinched in at the waist, and the tails reached well below his knees. Pantaloons, of a sickly shade of yellow, were moulded to somewhat thin legs. Though his hessians were highly polished, there were finger marks on the instep of one. He clearly aspired to be thought a dandy for he sported several fobs, a heavily ornamented quizzing glass, and wore at least four rings. His cravat, Lord Clifford noted, as well as being
disturbed by his earlier attentions, had been tied rather inexpertly into what was intended to be a Trone d'amour. How painfully indicative this was of the boy's errand. He sighed inwardly. So she was up to her tricks again, was she? But this, if his immediate suspicion was correct, looked to be rather more serious than her earlier exploits.

  'Sir Henry, pray sit down and tell me your business with me. I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance yet, I believe? Though I might be mistaken if I met you some years ago, when you were a schoolboy.'

  The boy flushed even redder at this hint of his youth, and took a deep breath. He seemed about to reply angrily, then blinked hard, bit his lip, and shook his head, having second thoughts.

  'My lord, I have come here on important business.'

  Lord Clifford contrived to hide his amusement at the boy's serious tone, and the hesitant wobble of his voice.

  'Really? I wonder what that can be?'

  Sir Henry blinked even harder.

  'I am hiring a house a few doors away from yours,' he announced. 'At least,' he added punctiliously, 'my mother is hiring it, though my sister arranged the details. Mama insisted I come too to escort them, and though I didn't wish it, I am thankful now she did.'

  'I think I know the house you mean. I understood it was hired by Lady Markby, though I have yet to meet her. I only took this house a few weeks ago. But come, we waste time. What is your serious business with me, sir?'

  'I wish to marry your ward!' he said, nervousness making his voice high-pitched and loud.

  'Miss Kirkland? And does she wish to marry you, Sir Henry?'

  'Yes. Of course she does. Or I would not be here.'

  'And so, rather belatedly, you come to ask my permission to address her?'

  The boy flushed at the implied rebuke.

  'I –we – that is, I did not intend anything underhand! But no sooner had we met than we recognized in each other our soul mates. There was no need for words.'