Page 33 of A Lady’s Fortune

‘It looks like you’ve been round the estate already before we’d even risen from our beds.’ George Lockwood poured her a cup of coffee.

‘I set out to see a few of our tenants to tell them I was off to London.’ She paused, embarrassed by her presumption, now that the estate was his. ‘I meant, that we were off to London.’

George Lockwood laughed. ‘You know I have yet to claim my primacy here and until then it is for you to do and say as you like, Miss Appleby.’

Lady Livia’s eyes rested on Leonora’s face. ‘Where may you live, Miss Appleby, once Mr Lockwood moves into the Manor?’

‘Hasterleigh Lodge is a pretty house on the estate that Mr Lockwood has designated as my home for as long as I wish.’

‘That is indeed generous. There is some embarrassment I presume being still on the estate when the heir moves in, perhaps with his new bride, to become the master and mistress of a property that has been yours?’ Her voice was soft and innocent like a girl’s, but her words carried bite.

Leonora felt herself stiffen. This had touched a nerve, for indeed there was an aching sense of loss in being deposed from a house that had been her home since birth, intensified no doubt when Mr Lockwood installed his new wife to become, as she had been, mistress of the estate. But her pride and natural distrust of this lady made her hide any vulnerability. She summoned a sunny smile. ‘Indeed, it is generous, but I shall be delighted to see Mr Lockwood’s plans put into action. I know he will care for the Manor estate as I have done.’

Lord Dearlove broke into this conversation in his cheerful way. ‘Miss Appleby, as you know, we set off for London and the jolly Season. When will we have the pleasure of the company of you and Miss Blythe?’ Leonora understood just why he had been such a favourite of William’s; she also marvelled, not for the first time, that Rufus and Livia Dearlove were siblings when they seemed to exhibit such opposing characters.

She was not looking forward with unalloyed pleasure to this departure, but felt she should hide her misgivings and mirror his lightness of spirit. ‘We set off in four days’ time. Miss Blythe’s great-grandmother, the Countess of Bucklebury, has invited us to stay with her in Brook Street.’

Lord Dearlove’s face clouded for a moment. ‘I hope that Rokeby won’t be gracing the London Season with his forbidding presence. He has one of the best houses in Grosvenor Square, which hasn’t been lived in since the brothers went to war. But I trust he has no intention of removing the dust sheets; he rather throws a pall over everything, don’t you think?’

Leonora was immediately defensive on the Earl’s part. ‘He’s a hero, my lord. He’s been through a war to protect us and seen horrors and suffering we cannot imagine.’

‘I don’t doubt that. But nobody wants to be reminded of the dirt and pain of battle. A gentleman owes it to Society to present his best face rather than his worst.’

‘Especially when his worst is so much worse than most,’ Lady Livia said, her soft lisp masking the malice.

George Lockwood then entered the fray and to Leonora’s surprise, defended the Earl. ‘He was damnably rude to me when I took his straying hound back to him, but I’ve since heard from my friend Gully Grantham in the War Office that they’re going to give his brother the Army Gold Cross posthumously, for bravery. Both brothers were exploring officers, infiltrating behind enemy lines to glean intelligence on troop movements: the most dangerous job in the campaigns.’

This silenced the Dearloves for a moment. The rich young noblemen who stayed at home to gamble, dance and fritter their fortunes on horses, courtesans and cards were made uneasy by the contrast with the young officers who endured the cauldron of war. Rufus Dearlove frowned. He did not like this unfamiliar feeling of being overshadowed by the gilded reputations of others. He muttered, ‘Alistair and Charles Rokeby were in the same regiment as my friend, Ormonde, who accompanied us here last night. He can’t countenance either of them. Denies there’s anything heroic about the Rokeby brothers, despite their fame to the contrary.’

Leonora regretted the turn this conversation had taken but could not refrain from a sharp riposte, ‘Well, I think the Earl returns that disdain!’ Everyone looked at her with surprise and she coloured. She did not like to be thought indiscreet or, worse still, sharp-tongued, so turned to the table of food and cut herself some ham. ‘Can I offer you anything more to eat?’

George Lockwood was by her side in a trice. ‘Let me carve some of that. I’ll have a slice; anything more for you, Dearlove?’

‘Yes, please. We have a long journey ahead.’ Rufus Dearlove walked to the table with his plate and George Lockwood placed two slices of ham in the middle, alongside a knob of bread and pile of pickle. Leonora was struck again by his lordship’s good looks, heightened by the colour in his cheeks and his dark auburn hair, worn long and curly to the collar. His greenish eyes were habitually crinkled in amusement.

Lady Livia had also walked to the table and stood close to George Lockwood. ‘Sir, when do you head off for London, and to what destination?’

He looked down at her with a smile. ‘I too go today, after breakfast. Home for the Season is my stepfather’s mansion in Davies Street.’

‘Well, with Miss Appleby and Miss Blythe in Brook Street and Livia and me in the ancestral cot in Berkeley Square, we’ll be near neighbours.’ Lord Dearlove was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Captain Ormonde used to live in Berkeley Square too, but he’s been living too fast and flying too high.’

‘He’s an Icarus, his wings melted by alcohol fumes and the heat of excess.’ George Lockwood seemed unsympathetic as he dismissed him.

Lord Dearlove was more forgiving. ‘You could say that. Certainly his rackety life has caught up with him and his debts; he’s now in rented rooms in Audley Street. But his charm seems to rescue him time and again.’

Lady Livia put a hand on Leonora’s arm and enquired in a solicitous way, ‘I hear you’re accompanying Miss Blythe during her Season. Why, pray, are the heroic Rokeby family taking such an interest in her?’

Leonora knew the truth would soon be clear once Charlotte was launched on Society and thought honesty might defuse some of the negative gossip. She turned to face Livia Dearlove. ‘Charlotte Blythe is the natural daughter of the previous Earl, Charles Rokeby.’

‘Oh yes, the daughter of a hero.’ Rufus Dearlove snorted.

‘Yes, the daughter of a hero and she has been embraced by the family.’ Leonora stood as tall as she could, her chin high.

‘And awarded a huge dowry no doubt so that prospective suitors overlook her dubious parentage.’

‘Lord Dearlove! I consider that comment beneath a gentleman’s honour. Charlotte is beautiful, accomplished, and kind. Any man would be fortunate to win her as a wife, fortune or not!’ Leonora felt blood rush to her cheeks. This was the first time she had come up against the snobberies of the haut ton, which she and Charlotte were about to enter.

George Lockwood had moved to stand beside her in solidarity as Lord Dearlove continued in his amused and suave manner, ‘Admirably said, Miss Appleby, but you cannot be so naive to think that beauty and charm alone will merit a girl a good marriage. The marriage mart is just that: a transaction where money and breeding are the necessary currencies.’