Rescued by the Viscount. Anne Herries
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Название: Rescued by the Viscount
Автор: Anne Herries
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Сказки
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781472044358
isbn:
Mama was relying on Charlotte to ease her father’s burden of debt. For that she must marry a man of consequence and wealth, but most of the aristocracy were rather starchy as regards reputation and behaviour; the merest hint of scandal attached to a young lady’s name would ruin her chances of a good marriage. What Charlotte had done was so outrageous that, if it were discovered, she would be an outcast from society.
Matt had warned her against her mad escapade, but nothing would have persuaded her. It was not her brother’s fault, though if he had not confessed to her she might not have discovered the necklace had gone for weeks. He had not been able to live with the guilt of stealing from his own sister, and, when told that the necklace was fake, confessed the whole. Charlotte had been determined to save her family from the scandal that would have resulted from such a fraud and her headstrong courage had led her to act without truly thinking of the consequences.
As a tiny child she’d followed wherever her brother led, climbing trees, swimming in the shallows of the river near their home wearing only her drawers and petticoat, and being beaten for her wickedness more than once. She’d ridden well from the age of three, joining the hunt when she was thirteen, and successfully ridden any horse her brother could master, throwing her heart over as she cleared fences three times her height. Matt told everyone she was fearless and their wild pranks were often at her instigation as they grew into their teenage years. Mama had taken her in hand when she was sixteen, insisting that she must behave like a lady if she wanted a Season in town, and so she had given up her tomboy behaviour—until the previous night when she’d climbed into a man’s bedchamber and retrieved the fake necklace.
Only now did Charlotte understand that this was not one of the childish pranks she’d shared with her brother. She was a thief. Even though the necklace was her own, Matt had pledged it in settlement of a debt. A gambling debt, and one that might have been incurred as a result of her brother being cheated, was not like a proper debt to a tradesman, Charlotte told herself, to ease her guilt. Lord Harding was known to be a hard gambler; some whispered he fleeced young gentlemen who were not up to all the tricks played on them by card sharps who treated them as plump pigeons, ripe for the plucking.
If Matt was right and he’d been cheated the night he fell so deeply in debt that he’d been driven to take her necklace, then Lord Harding deserved to be robbed of his ill-gotten gains. And yet she could not help feeling that she had done something shameful.
There was no point in thinking about it, she could not give the necklace back, but must be careful never to wear it anywhere it might be seen by a man who might recognise it as his property.
Charlotte pushed the worrying thoughts out of her mind. She’d been seen climbing from the window after retrieving that necklace, but only by a couple of very inebriated gentlemen—and one possibly sober one who had looked into her face for the merest second. She could only hope that Delsey would not put two and two together and make five.
So what had Miss Charlotte Stevens been up to the previous night? Had she been trying to pull the wool over his eyes by telling him she was more than nineteen years of age? Her manner had been demure enough, but something in the lift of her head told him that she was full of spirit and very likely to have been out late at night on some mad prank dressed in her brother’s outgrown clothes. If indeed it had been she, he was inclined to be amused and to like her for it. Jack was wary of the kind of female that swooned at every convenient moment and tried to trap a man into marriage, as he had reason enough to be. He had been relentlessly pursued since his first appearance on the town.
Jack pondered the puzzle as he dressed for the evening in a coat of blue superfine made by Weston that fitted his shoulders like a second skin. For riding Jack liked a little more room in his coats, but for evening it was imperative that the cut should be superb and his valet must naturally help him into it. His pantaloons of cream fitted perfectly, his cravat was expertly tied by his own hand, though it would not rival the intricacy of those who had mastered Mr Brummell’s excellence in the art, but the pin was a diamond of the first water. On the little finger of his right hand he wore a magnificent diamond set in heavy gold.
Satisfied with his appearance, Jack thanked his valet, advised him not to sit up, knowing full well that Cummings would ignore the order if he gave it. He walked down the stairs just as the door opened to admit his Aunt Seraphina and her daughter Julia.
‘Ah, we are in time,’ Aunt Seraphina said, looking pleased with herself. ‘Jack, I must beg a favour of you. You will escort your cousin to the ball this evening, will you not? I must return home at once for your uncle is down with a chill and no one but I can handle him when he is ill.’
‘Aunt...’ Jack protested, thrown off balance by the unexpected change to his plans. ‘My uncle could surely spare you for a few hours—and Julia really should not go without her mama.’
‘Please credit me with a little intelligence.’ His aunt fixed him with a beady eye. ‘If you promise to look after your cousin and make sure she doesn’t dance too often with any particular gentleman—or with an undesirable acquaintance—I can look after your poor Uncle David. If this chill goes to his chest...’
‘If my uncle is truly ill, then you must stay with him, but surely Julia would be best at home with you and her father.’
‘Don’t be so mean,’ Julia wailed, her pretty face screwing into an awful pout. ‘What trouble can it be to you to escort me this evening? Mama’s best friend, Lady Meadows, will be there and I may join her party once we are there, but I cannot turn up without an escort.’
Jack sighed inwardly, knowing that his own plans for the evening must be shelved. Julia would do well enough with Lady Meadows and her bevy of three rather plump daughters, but she would need an escort home, which meant his plans to leave early with friends and go on to a gambling club would be ended.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I suppose I must take you, brat, but do not expect me to dance with you all evening.’
‘You must dance with me once,’ Julia said, but she was smiling now, having gained her way. ‘Thank you, dearest Jack.’ She took his arm and hugged him, bringing a frown from her mama.
‘Remember your decorum, Julia,’ she warned. ‘Jack, I rely on you to look after this child for me.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Jack said. ‘I suppose Cousin Reginald was unable to oblige?’
‘Your cousin has his duties in the House, which he takes very seriously—and he may be late for they are sitting over an important bill this evening.’
‘Of course.’ Jack smothered his desire to retort that his cousin took both himself and his duties too seriously. Reginald was the personal secretary to the Prime Minister and one would think from his weighty manner and the way he gave his opinions on matters of State that he was himself meant for high office. ‘Go home and take care of my uncle, Seraphina. Julia will come to no harm with me.’
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