Courting Danger With Mr Dyer. Georgie Lee
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Название: Courting Danger With Mr Dyer
Автор: Georgie Lee
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474054072
isbn:
Before Aunt Agatha could set off, Moira turned her horse around and cantered down Rotten Row, gripping the reins so tight she thought they would split the seams of her gloves. How dare Aunt Agatha question her judgement or talk to her like some senseless schoolgirl. She, more than Aunt Agatha, recognised the difference between the two men for she’d been forced into intimate relations with one while forsaking the more virile of the two. Everything Lord Rexford had promised her she might have enjoyed with Mr Dyer: a home, family and security. Instead, she’d wed a title and prestige and it’d proven as hollow as her late husband’s chest.
Moira adjusted herself in the saddle, pushing back the encroaching sadness and regret, refusing to allow it to dominate her. Despite what Aunt Agatha believed about her judgement, she would choose her own husband this time, assuming any man worth having stepped forward to offer her his hand and heart.
She slowed her mount, remaining at the outer edges of the crush as the traffic in the Row increased. Young ladies in fashionable habits sat upright in their saddles in the middle of the path, their grooms following at a discreet pace. The bold ones flashed the available gentleman tempting looks to entice them to turn their horses and join them. The more timid ones relied on their mothers to summon the young men to them. Moira possessed neither the boldness nor the necessary guardian to assist her and she failed to catch anyone but old Lord Mortley’s notice, much to the displeasure of his wife who rode in the carriage beside him.
The steady clop of her horse’s hooves punctuated her heavy mood. She’d come to London to marry again. It’d seemed like a Herculean task before they’d journeyed to town. Being here as a widow without a fortune or lands trying to compete with all the glittering young ladies with large dowries made it even more so. Despite what Aunt Agatha believed, Moira wasn’t sure experience would gain her a match worth making.
Lord Camberline passed her on his fine stallion, oblivious to the inviting smiles of the young ladies and their mamas. Moira turned in her saddle, watching him continue down the row before stopping to speak with the Comte de Troyen and his daughter, Marie. His presence reminded her of the other trouble vexing her today.
Even if she did find a man who could make her happy, the stability of her home and happiness might be at risk. Mr Dyer believed something would happen soon and if it did, where would she and her family go? France wasn’t open to them and travelling to Germany was too perilous. There was always America, but it was so far from everything she cherished and loved, the same things she might lose if the Rouge Noir succeeded.
She clutched her reins tight. They can’t be allowed to succeed.
Napoleon’s domination of the European ports and his interrupting of trade were already making things in England worse. The restrictions added to the food shortages from the bad crops, inciting the workers in the north to revolt even more against the factory owners who were fighting a shrinking market to sell their goods and pay the very people turning against them and their new machines. The turmoil in the countryside would be nothing to the havoc Napoleon and his soldiers would wreak if the Rouge Noir destroyed the Government and brought the Emperor here. The thought of her safe world being torn apart scared her more than spending a lifetime without a husband and children of her own.
I won’t see the Fallworth lands torn from Freddy or little Nicholas left with nothing while French soldiers swarm over the country.
She’d do what she could to help bring down the wicked people who wanted to destroy them and rob everyone of their freedom the way Napoleon had pillaged and robbed so many people in Europe of theirs, the way her family had stolen hers when they’d insisted she marry Walter. She would have a life of her own and with it a future. She would help Mr Dyer.
Moira stood near the back of the line of mamas watching their daughters whirl about the Dowager Marchioness of Camberline’s impressive ballroom. A grand, arched ceiling presided over the rectangular space, at one end of which, in a balcony, the musicians played. At the other end, guests traversed the curving staircase to join the festivities or paused on the single landing to look over the crush. Tall windows punctuated the long run of the opposite wall and all of them were open to let in the cool night air. Camberline House in Mayfair was one of the last houses still surrounded by an extensive garden and land. There was some distance between it and its nearest neighbour and the stately trees and rolling lawn beyond the windows, illuminated by torches, gave Moira and the other guests the impression of being in the country.
A few days ago, Moira had eagerly looked forward to tonight. Once here, the thrill of it lost its allure. Freddy was in the gaming room while Aunt Agatha was off enjoying refreshments with her friends. Moira, being a widow, didn’t need a chaperon and so she’d been abandoned to face the crush alone. Growing up, she’d never spent much time in London, and after marriage and widowhood, she’d continued to avoid town. It left her with no friends here her age and no social circles beyond those her aunt had dragged her into, including as a patroness of the Lying-in Hospital. Those people she did know were from her parents’ or grandparents’ era and she was hesitant to approach them. She’d spent her marriage surrounded by an old husband and his aged friends. She was a young woman and she longed to spend time with people her age. Moira played with the string of her fan, trying to catch the eyes of those around her, but with all their acquaintances already set, no one was interested in forming a new one with her.
Moira sighed. It’d been like this during her very brief and awkward Season, making her isolation even more severe. It seemed as if things had changed, but they hadn’t. Aunt Agatha still railed against Mr Dyer while Moira continued to stand alone in ballrooms.
‘Good evening, Lady Rexford, I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation,’ an elegant voice with a hint of a French accent greeted Moira, breaking the solitude surrounding her.
Moira turned to find the Dowager Marchioness of Camberline beside her, the woman as stately as a Gainsborough in her swathes of mauve silk and black netting. With her grey eyes above a thin nose, she’d turned a number of heads in London after she’d fled the Reign of Terror. Once here, she’d enjoyed her pick of suitors, settling on the much older Marquess of Camberline and the fine fortune and title he’d offered her. Despite a son who’d just reached his majority and being a widow, she was still a stunning woman with little grey in her dark hair. It should have been a relief to at last have someone to speak to, but something about the stately woman placed Moira on edge. ‘I have fond memories of your grandparents dancing at Lady Elmsworth’s parties after I came over from France. Your grandmother was one of the few who refused to wear the red ribbon around her neck. A number of people considered her eccentric because of it, but she adapted so well to England, unlike many others. Good evening, Lady Rexford.’
Her strange reminiscence shared, the Dowager Marchioness swept off to join Lord Moreau, Lord Lefevre and the young lady beside him holding his arm. The woman, who Moira didn’t recognise, was about Moira’s height with blonde hair and a gown cut much lower than even the current fashion favoured.
Lady Camberline tolerating the bold young lady surprised Moira, but not her abrupt departure from Moira. Lady Camberline had been similarly terse with her time and words when she’d extended the ball invitation to Moira and Aunt Agatha while they’d been here for the patroness meeting two days ago. She was surprised the other woman had deigned to notice her tonight, but perhaps Moira was not as easily overlooked as she’d believed.
Moira cast about in search of a familiar face or a friendly invitation by another guest to indulge in conversation. Neither was forthcoming, but she didn’t mind as СКАЧАТЬ