The Major Meets His Match. Annie Burrows

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      Although Harriet really had no intention of marrying Lord Becconsall, even if he ever did propose, which he’d just informed her he wouldn’t, she couldn’t help indulging her curiosity.

      ‘What should I know about Lord Becconsall, then?’ she said in as meek a tone as she could muster. Whilst looking down at her fingers as they played with the struts of her fan.

      ‘Oh, so it is like that, is it?’ Aunt Susan smiled. ‘Well, in that case, we might still be able to repair the damage. I can drop a word in his ear,’ she said, patting her hand.

      ‘What? No! I mean, I’m sure that is very kind of you, Aunt, but—’

      But Aunt Susan had got the bit between her teeth.

      ‘Lord Becconsall has a very handsome fortune, my dear, and a couple of really lovely estates. All kept in immaculate condition by his family for generations. I admit, since he has come into the title, he has not behaved with—that is, he has gained a reputation for being something of a...wastrel, let us say, but then what can you expect? I mean, he never expected to inherit anything, I shouldn’t think, what with having two such strapping older brothers.’

      ‘Oh?’ It felt strange to think he, like her, was the youngest out of a handful of brothers. ‘What happened to them?’

      ‘Oh, you need not worry about any sort of hereditary weakness that might carry him off the same way,’ said Aunt Susan, completely missing the point. ‘No, the eldest fell from his horse and broke his neck.’

      Harriet winced.

      ‘And the next in line contracted...well, a most unpleasant illness which was the scourge of the district at the time. Which came as a very great shock to everyone. Particularly him, I should think. Why, he probably assumed he would spend the rest of his life in the army. Where, I must say, he did at least acquit himself with honours. Though he only came out with the rank of major,’ she mused. ‘Although that was probably as much to do with finances as anything,’ she added, brightening up. ‘As the third son, I don’t suppose he had much in the way of money to buy promotions. Oh. It has just occurred to me—yes, it probably went to his head, suddenly having so much money and the title as well. Is it any wonder he went just a little...wild? Just at first. I am sure he will settle down and do his duty to his family. Perhaps he is already starting to think along those lines. Yes,’ she said, brightening up. ‘Perhaps that is why he asked you to dance.’

      Harriet swallowed, knowing it was no such thing.

      But Aunt Susan was sitting there, plotting and planning ways and means of getting him to propose to her.

      Because, deep down, she thought her niece only good enough to marry a...wastrel.

      Worse, said wastrel had no intention of marrying her. Had indeed scuttled away with his tail between his legs at the merest threat he might have to do something so abhorrent should their kiss become common knowledge.

      * * *

      She was still seething by the time they called for their carriage. Which was an utterly stupid thing to do, since their own house was not two hundred yards away. They could have walked home far quicker. But, no, in London, ladies waited for the horses to be put to and the carriage to be brought round, rather than do anything as prosaic as walk home.

      Oh, how she hated London tonight. Why had she listened to Aunt Susan’s tales of balls and picnics and beaux? Why had she allowed herself to get swept along on the tide of Kitty’s enthusiasm at the prospect of them making their come-out together?

      Because, she answered herself as she clambered into the coach behind her two female relatives, Aunt Susan and Kitty had made her feel wanted, that was why. It would never have occurred to either of her parents that it was high time their only daughter made her social debut. And if it had, neither of them would have wanted to oversee it. Papa hated London and Mama considered it all a ridiculous waste of time and expense.

      She sighed, and in the darkness of the coach, reached out and took Aunt Susan’s gloved hand. It was not her fault Harriet had not, so far, found her feet in society. Her aunt had done all she could.

      Nor could Harriet blame her for believing she was only fit to marry a wastrel. Not when she was so awkward, and...yes, rebellious, as Lord Becconsall had pointed out.

      As the coach rumbled through the darkened streets, and Kitty prattled on about the many and various partners with whom she’d danced, Harriet wondered how she was going to break it to Aunt Susan that not even the wastrel looked on her as a potential bride.

      Though time would probably take care of that. Since, after the way they’d just parted, he’d probably take good care not to come anywhere near her, ever again.

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