Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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       Chapter One

      Hallam Ravenscar, now a major in His Majesty’s Own elite cavalry regiment, and the recipient of some half-a-dozen medals for gallantry on the field, straightened an imaginary crease in his immaculate coat of blue superfine and placed a diamond stickpin in the soft folds of his cravat. His short dark hair was brushed casually into a fashionable style and he looked the complete man about town, his eyes grey with a look of steel in them. Having returned to England after Napoleon was finally defeated to the shocking tragedy of his cousin Mark’s murder, he had played his part in the unmasking of an evil rogue. He was now in London to see his man of business and to purchase a wedding gift for his cousin Captain Adam Miller to Miss Jenny Hastings.

      A half-sigh left his lips for he had been urged by his lawyers and agents to consider marrying an heiress, too. Indeed, it must be marriage or the more drastic step of selling his late father’s estate, which was at present burdened with insupportable debt. His father had been a lifelong gambler and after the death of the wife he’d adored, he had plunged deeper and deeper into the abyss.

      Hallam had been fighting for his life in France when his father succumbed to a virulent fever and it was only on his return to England that he truly understood what awaited him.

      ‘You have little choice, sir,’ Mr Hatton, his father’s lawyer, told him. ‘Had your father lived he must have sold most of the estate but since his death I have had hard work of it to keep the bank from foreclosing. It would be better to sell than let them simply take the estate. That way you might save something.’

      Hallam knew that he was close to ruin. He had the small estate his maternal grandfather had left to him, but that was little more than a large farmhouse and some one hundred acres, most of which was let to tenants. Together with his pay, it had brought him sufficient income to sustain him as a cavalry officer, but was hardly enough to support a wife and family in style, unless he could find another source of income. Adam had invited him to come in as a partner with a wine-importing business, and Hallam had agreed. He would need to sell his commission and that would bring sufficient funds for a modest investment—but what of the future?

      His lawyer had made no bones about it. ‘Your mother was the youngest daughter of an earl, Major Ravenscar, and your father the younger son of an old and respected family. You do not at present have a title to offer, but I think you might find that the daughter of a rich merchant would welcome an offer.’

      ‘Good grief, you want me to sell myself?’

      Hallam had greeted the suggestion with horror and disgust, but in truth he could see very little alternative. He might make a fortune with Adam, but that was well into the future. In the meantime he had two choices, neither of which appealed.

      Damn it! He would not think about the problem of his estate tonight. He was engaged to meet some friends to dine, and from there they would go on to a card party at the house of Lord Devenish. He understood there would be some dancing after the musical recital for those that cared for it—nothing lavish, just a few couples standing up in the gallery.

      He picked up his swordstick and hat, gave himself another depreciating look and left his lodgings to keep the appointment. It was years since Hal had thought of marriage, being content to flirt mildly with charming young ladies and enjoy a friendly relationship with an obliging widow while on service in Spain and France.

      How could he even consider marriage when his heart had never completely healed? Madeline had dealt his heart and his pride a severe blow. While the pain had subsided gradually, and a harder, stronger man had been forged in the fires of battle, Hal had never felt anything stronger than affection for the lady who had so kindly tended his wounds and given generously of herself.

      Had he wished to marry for comfort’s sake, he could not have done better than to wed Mrs Sarah Bowman, for she had been a soldier’s wife and would have been willing to follow the drum—but Hal did not wish for a wife. How could he marry when his heart was dead? Madeline had killed it when she married her count for his money.

      It was ridiculous to think of Madeline. She had long forgotten him—and was probably content in her marriage with several children at her skirts.

      The picture gave him pain and he put it from his mind. He must forget Madeline and move on. Perhaps it would be better to take his lawyer’s advice and seek out the daughter of a wealthy Cit, who would be grateful to offer her father’s money in return for a home and a place in society.

      His lips curled with distaste at the idea, but he would not be the first or the last to seek a solution to his money problems in this way.

      If the worst came to the worst, he would consider it, but for the moment he would look for other ways to pay his debts.

      * * *

      Lord Devenish’s rooms were overflowing with guests, all of them enjoying the fine champagne and other wines, which waiters offered them constantly as they circulated with trays. Hal accepted a glass and sipped it, moving through the crowded rooms and stopping now and then to talk to people he knew. He was hailed as a hero by many, welcomed home and greeted warmly. His bravery had been mentioned in dispatches and everyone was eager to congratulate him, asking how long he intended to stay in London and offering invitations to all manner of events.

      ‘The Regent told me you were an outstanding officer,’ Lord Devenish told him as he clapped him on the shoulder and welcomed him to the house. ‘Knew your father well, m’boy—and regretted what happened at the end. If you need any advice or help you know where to come.’

      ‘Thank you, sir,’ Hallam said and smiled. ‘I do not suppose СКАЧАТЬ