Earl from India Read online

  'You must make an effort, for Fanny's sake. Papa has been dead for eighteen months now. How did you meet all these people who have sent invitations, and who is Lady Charlotte Wilkes?'

  'We met them at Lady Short's. She lives next door, and they, Lady Charlotte and her niece, visited one day last week when we were there. She, Lady Charlotte, was the sister of the late Earl of Escott, is Lady Short's mother, and she is presenting her niece Amanda this year. Amanda's brother Lucien is a cousin of the Earl's.'

  'Escott? Like that fellow on the ship? I was at Oxford with a Lucien Escott. It must be the same family. And the family of the man we met on the ship. He spoke of a cousin Lucien.'

  He tried to recall what he knew of Lucien's family, but knew only his father was a younger brother of what must have been John Escott's father. From what he could recall, Lucien had been a very different type of man.

  'Amanda did mention a brother. Gerard, if you know him, you could take my place and escort Fanny to their party?'

  He picked out one invitation and read it.

  'It's tomorrow, and I had a meeting with someone, but I can change that. I'll call for Fanny. Has she a suitable gown, and all she needs, sandals and a fan and whatever else? What about jewels?'

  Mrs Holbeck sighed and picked up her vinaigrette.

  'She has a new evening gown. Those Indian pearls will do, I suppose. Your Papa meant her to have them on her eighteenth birthday.'

  'Which is in a few weeks, and she needs them now. Are they with the others at the bank? If so, I will need to collect them tomorrow.'

  'You are so good to us.'

  Gerard suppressed a sigh. He had hoped his mother, once in London, would throw off the lethargy which had attacked her when his father died, but so far she had sunk into an even greater lack of energy and was resisting his every effort to make her accept her responsibility towards Fanny. She would not even walk in the Park with her, saying the crowds confused her. All she would do was ride sedately in the landau, which did not permit Fanny to meet anyone and stop to talk. He wondered whether it was to do with her displeasure when he had informed her he had no wish to see Fanny betrothed to the first man she met, even if he was the Earl of Escott. He suspected that behind this unwillingness to take Fanny about was a stubborn determination to force him to agree to a marriage with the Earl of Escott. She had been convinced the Earl would have made Fanny an offer if he had not been so implacably against the man. He would need to find time to take his sister about, so that she could enjoy her Season, and perhaps spend some time at Brighton or Bath before they went to their country home at the end of the year. Yet if this girl Amanda was related to the Earl, he would have expected his mother to make an effort to pursue the connection. He would discover more on the following night, and went away hoping John Escott would not be at the party.

  *

  Silas left The Feathers early in the morning, carrying his saddlebags. If any officious ostler queried his taking the hired horse from the stables, he would say he was returning it to the hirer. As he came out onto the road he saw a farmer's cart toiling up the hill, a riding horse tethered to it, shaking his head and pulling to get free. A man lay on the cart, groaning. The farmer driving the cart hailed him.

  'Sir, can ye help me? I'm to take this fellow, who seems to have broken his leg, to a doctor, but the blasted horse is slowing me down, he don't like bein' tied up. He's stayin' at The Feathers,' he added, nodding to his passenger, 'so if ye could take the beast to their stables I'd be much obliged.'

  'Of course I will,' Silas said, and moved to untie the horse. 'It's no trouble at all. I'm on my way there.'

  The injured man made an effort to thank him, and the farmer drove on. Silas stood watching them. This might be even better than stealing the hired horse. No one who had witnessed that short conversation knew him. No one could have heard what had been arranged, so if he led the beast away from The Feathers they might assume he was leading it to its own stable. And if he led it, and later rode it, towards the south, before turning north for Shrewsbury, any pursuit would set off in the opposite direction.

  He led the horse through the Bull Ring and down the hill towards the gate opening onto the Leominster road. When he was sure no one was following him he slung the saddle bags over the animal's rump and mounted. Outside the town he took small side roads and tracks, well known to him as a boy, until he could turn north. He passed close by the Priory before he joined the main Shrewsbury road, but resisted the temptation to look at it again. The dilapidated state of the house he'd been looking forward to owning would only infuriate him.

  In Shrewsbury he sold the horse, saying he was travelling on by the stage. At another stables he bought another horse, saying he was riding northwards towards Chester, and by late afternoon set off past the castle, planning to turn eastwards when he was out of sight of the town and ride a dozen miles before he stopped for the night. He had, he hoped, confused the trail sufficiently should the owner of the stolen horse attempt to follow him.

  *

  Amanda, wearing a new evening dress in a delicate shade of rose, with flounces and darker rose ribbons below the bodice, smiled when she saw Fanny enter her aunt's drawing room. Her friend had a new dress, she saw, which seemed to shimmer between pretty shades of blue and green, and then, as she thought to herself later, her breath seemed to stop. Following Fanny was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was, she thought in confusion, even better looking than her brother, and she had always idolised Lucien, knowing that no other man remotely matched him for good looks. Was this god-like creature Fanny's brother?

  She wanted to go and speak to Fanny, to welcome her to this small party, but was afraid her legs would be so weak they would not hold her, and her voice would not emerge from her mouth.

  He was dark, his hair cut short but with an unruly wave. His face was tanned, no doubt from years in the heat of India. He had wide-spaced eyes of a piercing blue, and a mouth that was smiling broadly, under a straight, well-shaped nose. A determined chin rested on an intricately tied neckcloth, and his evening clothes showed not a hint of a wrinkle. His shoulders were broad, his waist and hips narrow, and his legs excellently muscular. Amanda let out a breath she hadn't been conscious of holding, and watched Aunt Charlotte sail across the room to welcome the newcomers.

  It was a small party of a couple of dozen people, friends of her aunt's and their daughters or granddaughters, with some unmarried sons and grandsons. Lady Charlotte had explained she wanted to introduce Amanda to people who would invite her to their parties and balls, where she would meet suitable men. So far, Amanda had met quite a few of these sons and grandsons, during morning visits and drives or rides in the Park, and while she found them pleasant enough, and was quite willing to talk and walk and dance with them, she thought she could be perfectly happy if she never set eyes on any of them again. The only man who had intrigued her sufficiently for her to look around for him when they entered a room was Sir Martin Carruthers, and that, she decided now, was because he was older and more suave than most of the youths she met. He intrigued her with his mixture of admiration and a certain slightly mocking way he had of making her feel young and gauche, that tempted her to try and show him she was more sophisticated than he assumed. She was bound to admire a man who had been on the town for a dozen years, and who paid flattering attention to her in preference to other debutantes.

  She had been disappointed when Lady Charlotte had refused to invite him to this party. She suspected her aunt did not like him, but she had simply said he would be out of pace amongst a party of younger people.

  How old was Fanny's brother? She knew from Fanny he had been in the army in India for eight years, after his time at Oxford. He would be much the same age as her brother, and that was rather older than most of the present company. Though not, she admitted, as old as Sir Martin, who must be in his mid-thirties.

  Her musings were cut short as Fanny, pulling her brother after her, crossed the room towards her.
She took a deep breath, and licked her lips. Somehow she had to speak normally, and not reveal this odd agitation that gripped her.

  'Amanda, this is my brother Gerard. He escorted me because Mama is feeling unwell. Gerard, this is my best friend Amanda Escott.'

  Amanda tried to speak, and thought she managed to croak out a few words of welcome as she held out her hand towards Gerard. It did not, she saw with considerable relief, tremble, but when Gerard grasped it in his hand she felt a sudden shock travel right up her arm.

  'Fanny has told me how much you have helped her getting to know people,' he said as he released her hand. 'I am most grateful, for we know so few people in England, and our mother does not enjoy robust health, so is unable to take Fanny about as much as I would wish.'

  'It – it is a pleasure,' she managed.

  'I used to know a Lucien Escott at Oxford,' he went on, apparently oblivious of her taciturnity. 'He lived in Shropshire, and though our own estate is also in the county, we didn't know his family.'

  Suddenly Amanda found her tongue.

  'Lucien is my brother,' she said. 'He cannot be here tonight, but I am sure he will be glad to meet you when he arrives in London.'

  'Do you like my gown?' Fanny asked. 'The muslin is from India, Gerard brought it home with us, and he insisted on employing a seamstress to make up several gowns for me.'

  'It's a pretty colour,' Amanda said. 'I haven't seen that colour before. What do you call it?'

  Gerard laughed. 'I leave describing it to the ladies. It looks like straw to me but I'm sure you have some other name for it.'

  'Oh no, it's far too pretty to be called straw, and it suits Fanny, she has such lovely dark hair.'

  Like yours, she wanted to say, and had an insane desire to lift her hand to his hair and feel the softness.

  Before she could commit such an impropriety Lady Charlotte appeared by her side and drew Gerard away to introduce him to one of her old friends who had been in India years before, and wanted to know if it had changed much. Then it was time for supper, and all Amanda could do was look at Gerard without it appearing too obvious that she cared for no one else in the room. She responded somehow to remarks made to her, managed to eat something, though afterwards she could not recall either what had been said or what she had eaten, and retired to bed to dream and relive the evening, and make plans for meeting again with Gerard Holbeck as soon as possible.

  *

  Silas discovered, to his satisfaction, that his plan was working as he had anticipated. He rarely moved more than one stage further along the road each day, but every evening at the posting inns he found bored young men only too willing to join him in a game of cards, or throwing the dice. Many of them were travelling on the stage, but some were driving their own carriages. They were all eager to travel as fast as possible, though, anxious to reach London, so he had no fear of meeting them again later in the journey. That was all to the good. One of his most successful strategies had always been to permit his opponents to win at the beginning, while plying them with glasses of wine or tankards of ale. He managed, while appearing to drink as much as they did, to remain coldly sober, and the luck gradually turned so that by the end of the evening he was a clear and substantial winner.

  He never pushed it so far that they suspected foul play. He had no desire to be involved in a brawl or attract accusations that would ensure unwelcome attention. The amounts he won were not excessive, for he was careful not to arouse suspicion, but they were more than enough for him to pay his shot, and he judged that by the time he reached London he would have enough besides to set himself up in a pair of rooms. Then, if he did not increase his winnings, as he fully expected to do once he found his way around the town, he could run up debts. He reluctantly accepted that if he wished to remain the Earl of Escott, he would have to clear these debts occasionally, but when that fool Sopwith disposed of the Priory he would have plenty of blunt. And by then he would have captured an heiress. If possible he wanted Fanny Holbeck, for he hadn't felt so attracted to a chit since his undergraduate days. But if that curmudgeonly brother of hers put a spoke in his wheel, there would be plenty of other heiresses looking to marry a title.

  He reached Towcester and decided to put up at the Saracens Head. He should find good pickings there. After stabling his horse he walked into the coffee room and stopped dead. It could not be, but it was. He could not be mistaken. It was as though he had met the old Earl's younger brother again. It was too late to withdraw. The man he was looking at turned round, stared at him in astonishment, and then strode across the room, his hand outstretched.

  'John? Surely it's you? You've hardly changed. Older, of course, and I was only nine or ten when I last saw you. Welcome back to England. I am sorry about your father, of course, but it's good to see you again.'

  Silas swallowed. Of all the damnable luck!

  'I suppose you are Lucien? I couldn't mistake you. You are very much like I recall your father. How is my – my uncle?'

  'He died, five years ago.'

  'Oh, my commiserations, cousin.'

  'Thank you. Are you on your way to Shropshire?'

  'I've been,' Silas said, and couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. 'I saw the state the Priory is in.'

  'Yes, a great shame.'

  Silas managed to refrain from condemning the late Earl, recalling how Mr Sopwith had blamed him – or John rather – for the lack of money to keep up the property.

  'Indeed. I've ordered it to be sold, if anyone is fool enough to want a ruin! There was no alternative. I don't suppose you want to buy it? It would be good to keep it in the family. I remember your father was always very fond of it, and he married an heiress.'

  'So was I fond of it, as a youngster, but I now have a house I'm very fond of, and don't want to move, even if I could afford to buy the Priory, which I can't. Here, let's order a bottle of wine. Will you have dinner with me and tell me all the news of India?'

  There was no way he could avoid it. Silas had to abandon his plans for the evening and resign himself to family chat. As he changed in his room he consoled himself with the thought he might discover news of the family from Lucien, which could help him when he was in London. At least Lucien had not suspected he was not John. If a cousin accepted him he need have no fears anyone else would question his identity.

  *

  CHAPTER 5

  Sir Martin appeared in Berkeley Square the following morning, inviting Amanda to drive in the Park with him later in the day.

  'I have just purchased a high-perch phaeton,' he told her, and Amanda, who had no wish to drive with anyone except Gerard Holbeck, was tempted, for none of her young admirers possessed such a dashing vehicle.

  So far she had not been able to drive out in one of these carriages. Realistically, despite her recent dreams, she knew she would never become proficient enough to drive one herself, even if Lady Charlotte and Lucien would permit it. She had on a few occasions taken the reins of a curricle, but only within the confines of the Park, and when her escorts deemed it quiet enough. Even that modest excitement had, she admitted to herself, terrified her. She knew she would be unable to control even the most sluggish pair in the traffic outside, where there were so many vehicles of all sorts whose drivers seemed to take no heed of others.

  'May I, Aunt Charlotte?' she asked, excited at this opportunity of fulfilling a long-held dream despite the frissons of fear that rippled up her spine.

  Lady Charlotte did not approve of the attention Sir Martin was paying to Amanda, but she knew how much the child fancied driving in this outrageous vehicle. Sir Martin was an excellent whip, he belonged to the Four Horse Club, which only accepted the most experienced drivers, so she smiled and nodded. She could deal with any amorous intentions he had easily enough later. She'd steered five daughters away from fortune hunters, after all. She strongly suspected Amanda was just flattered to have captured the attentions of an older, experienced and popular man, and kept them for so long after all she
had heard of his reputation for switching his attentions after a very short time.

  'You may, child. I shall be on tenterhooks until you return safely, but I am sure Sir Martin will take excellent care of you.'

  He laughed. 'Don't worry, my lady, you know Amanda is precious to me. I will drive very slowly, and take great care of her.'

  Amanda was on tenterhooks for the rest of the day. She was hoping Fanny and her brother would come to call before she had to drive out, but instead her mother sent a note thanking Lady Charlotte for the previous evening's party, and explaining that she was sorry to have been too indisposed to attend herself.

  'I hope to see you soon, for I understand Lady Short plans to give a party for Jane,' she had added.

  Would Gerard be at that party? Amanda knew from Fanny that he lived with them in the Park Street house, which in fact belonged to him, though his offices were in the City and, Fanny had said, he also had rooms there and when he was working late often stayed there.

  He should have come, it would have been polite, she told herself, disappointed, but had to accept she would not see him that day. She and Fanny would meet again soon, though, and then she might discover more about the man whose image had invaded her dreams last night and still occupied most of her daytime thoughts.

  She wore a new olive green pelisse, over a cream sprigged muslin walking dress. Her hat was a rakishly brimmed straw, with feathers Megan had dyed to match the pelisse. The admiring look in Sir Martin's eyes as he helped her climb into the phaeton was gratifying, but she would rather, she thought suddenly, be riding in a one-horse gig with Gerard Holbeck than be with Sir Martin.

  The ride distracted her. It was, she privately admitted, terrifying to be perched so high above the ground. She clung to the sides, until Sir Martin chided her for having so little faith in his ability to control his horses. She gulped, folded her hands in her lap, tried to concentrate on how well her new walking dress and the olive pelisse suited her, and hoped her new hat would not be blown from her head by the sudden gusts of wind that swept across the Park.