Page 52 of Twice Shy
‘Either you were very confident or very lucky. That will keep your stud in oats a decent while. You know, I really thought Manfred would beat them all.’ He sighed. ‘I am glad you won, though.’
‘I am not convinced,’ remarked Sir Lucius, feathering a corner with precision, ‘that I have yet won at all.’
With which cryptic utterance, Lord Godmanchester had to be content.
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
However much Elizabeth might have cautioned the clearly entranced Amelia to keep her views uponLord Carbrooke to herself, it would have been impossible for her young cousin to bottle them within, and besides, her looks and demeanour were those of a young lady quite carried away. She had, as she had confided to Elizabeth already, a distinct preference for him over other admirers, and his presence aroused feelings in her maidenly bosom that the more experienced would sagely ascribe to being smitten. His actions, both in rescuing her property, and thereafter looking after her, had elevated these feelings to an open admission that he was the most perfect of men and that she loved him. This last she did not actually declare in front of her mama, but she scarcely needed so to do. From the moment that he handed her, tenderly, down from the barouche, in which she had spent the past couple of hours in intoxicating proximity to his person, made his polite farewells, thanked Sir Lucius for an outstanding day and253walked away with a spring in his step, Amelia had let her emotions have free rein. Her own thanks to Sir Lucius were prettily put, and he accepted them with due seriousness, though his eyes twinkled at her choice of words. The expedition, she said, had been one of the best days ‘ever’ and she could not thank him enough for his kindness. This, as he remarked wryly to Lord Godmanchester, as he drove him back to his house in Brook Street, was from a young lady who had no interest in horses, and could not tell one anything about the day’s events upon the racetrack, even the name of the winner of the Derby itself.
‘It would seem you have, unintentionally, acted as Cupid, Lucius.’
‘Not a role to which I have ever aspired, I promise you.’ Sir Lucius’s lip curled. He seemed only half attending, and it was not because of negotiating the traffic.
‘Nonetheless, I would be very surprised if Carbrooke doesn’t offer for the chit.’
‘Lady Chalford clearly has high hopes of Nuneaton.’
‘I think “had” is more accurate now, my friend. His behaviour today did not show him in a good light at all, and to be honest, I do not think he would walk into parson’s mousetrap after all these years. He has admired her, yes, as a pretty object, but he showed absolutely no interest in how that bungled theft affected her at all. No, Lady Chalford ought to be very pleased with her offspring forming an attachment with Carbrooke. He might not have the wealth, but he is a good-hearted young man, who will no doubt be very steady once married.’
‘I cannot pretend to have made a study of his good254points, and I know little more of him than he is an admirer of Chalford’s daughter, and was a good way of guaranteeing her presence in my party, but I will say this: he can run well.’
‘A sprinter not a stayer, though, eh, Lucius.’
‘I wouldn’t set him over more than five furlongs, no.’
‘And’ – Godmanchester grinned, returning to his subject –‘he plainly dotes upon the girl.’
‘Plainly. I only hope the sight of them did not make Miss Ashling feel queasy on the journey back.’
Sir Lucius sounded almost bitter, and his friend, sensing that Lucius found the sight of another man’s courtship coming so easily towards a successful conclusion was hard to bear when his own remained in the balance, dropped the subject.
Having deposited his friend at his house, Sir Lucius made his way back to his own residence in silence, prey to jumbled thoughts. When he handed his matched bays over to the groom, he did so with courteous thanks to him, and to those who had driven the barouche, but with his mind elsewhere. Once indoors, he withdrew into his library, and sat at the desk with his chin resting on his long, steepled fingers, and a pronounced frown.
The day had been most successful but the morrow still filled him with trepidation. Ironic as it was, he had fallen for the woman least likely to want a declaration among all the single ladies of his acquaintance. He had supposed, vaguely, that one day he would see a woman he admired, would find his feelings, of whatever depth, reciprocated,255and life would continue smoothly in the married rather than single state. He had seen men in the tangled passions of love and thought himself immune from their anguish. Now he saw the error of his self-assurance.
Elizabeth Ashling had a sort of serene, dark beauty for which he had a natural preference, but he had seen plenty of far more obvious dark beauties before and never felt as he did now. He tried to analyse those feelings, and found himself more, rather than less, confused. She was not meek and amenable, and had frequently snapped at him, which had made him wish to retaliate in kind, but he knew she was not shrewish. She was quick-witted, independent, yet desperately vulnerable, and he wanted to protect her, take whatever burdens she carried from her, chase away the demons that seemed to haunt her. When they had first met he had heard her say, bitterly, that she would grant men nothing, and her subsequent behaviour had marked her simply as a natural man-hater. Yet no sooner than she been placed in the awkward position of having men pursue her, and from his own foolish intemperance, he had begun to see that whilst she distrusted men, she distrusted herself more. At parties she was always aware of her position as ‘prey’. She was fearful of attention, but at heart, more afraid of giving anything of herself.
Despite this, in the saddle she had forgotten her sex, and been confident, one human being engaging with another. He had learnt that there was so much more to her than the defensive spinster. When she forgot to be afraid, he found her a kindred spirit who could understand his passion for bloodstock, who could spar light-heartedly with words,256seemed happy in his presence, and yet, as today, she would suddenly pull up short, shy away from him. She had been laughing, eyes shining, excited and vital, and then this chasm had appeared between them, a chasm he could not explain, and the camaraderie, the closeness, disappeared into it. He wanted that closeness; he wanted her as she had been when watching the racing; he wanted to shield her from whatever blackness it was that descended upon her. She put him at arm’s length, and it frustrated him. When she withdrew he had no belief that if he offered his protection, and yes, he admitted it, his love, she would accept it. Rather, she was likely to draw back from him entirely. It hurt his pride that she would not trust him, but it hurt his heart more, and he was unsure how to overcome her reluctance. If she had the slightesttendrefor him, and there had been evidence of it, surely it was possible? And if she had not, what else might he do to win her?
The clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the hour, and he sighed, ran a hand through his now slightly disordered hair, and went upstairs to change.
‘Was it not kind, Mama, of Lord Carbrooke to promise to come round to Mount Street tomorrow to see that we are all recovered from our exertions?’
Lady Chalford winced. She had seen her hopes of Lord Nuneaton dashed, and in truth, was most displeased with the man for his abysmal attitude. A reasonable woman, she could understand Amelia’stendrefor the handsome Viscount, and the loving mother in her was delighted that her affections had found, seemingly, reciprocation. However,257her matchmaking mama side had too raw a wound in Nuneaton’s failure to, as yet, rejoice in the likely declaration of the lesser ‘prize’ of Carbrooke.
‘… and he said that he rather thought he might be making up a party of his own to visit Astley’s, and …’
‘We heard, Amelia. Now do, I beg of you, go upstairs and change your gown, and leave me in peace. I fear I have a sick headache coming on, and I think that I will take but a little supper in my room.’
Amelia was immediately apologetic, but it was Elizabeth who gave her aunt her arm up the stairs to her bedchamber. Lady Chalford bade her come in for a moment, and sat heavily upon her daybed.
‘He will offer for her, of course.’
‘And when you are less wearied, dear Aunt, you will be delighted.’
‘Perhaps. She could have achieved a better match if she had applied herself, though; I am sure of it.’ Lady Chalford sighed.
