Talk of the Ton

“What are you going to do with me?” Beth asked.

“Oh, do not fret. I have no designs on your person,” he said.

“Then let me go.”

“That, I think, would be considered unchivalrous.”

“No more unchivalrous than holding a lady against her wishes.”

“If the lady has no idea of the danger she is in, then a gentleman has no choice.” He laughed suddenly. “Whatever made you think you could pass yourself off as a boy? A more feminine figure I have yet to meet.” His eyes roamed appreciatively over her as he spoke.

The only slightly masculine thing about her was her cut-down fingernails. He was intrigued by them. “It is a good thing I intervened when I did.”

Talk of the Ton

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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MARY NICHOLS

Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, a school secretary, an information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

Talk of the Ton

MARY NICHOLS

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

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Harlequin®Historical is loosening the laces with our newest, hottest, sexiest miniseries, Undone!

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#898 TAKEN BY THE VIKING—Michelle Styles

A dark, arrogant Viking swept Annis back to his homeland.

Now she must choose between the lowly work that befits a captive and a life of sinful pleasure in the Viking’s arms!

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#235 A WEALTHY WIDOW—Anne Herries

Elegant, beautiful and inordinately rich, Lady Arabella Marshall is used to fending off fortune-hunters’ unwanted flattery. But now such attentions have become deadly!

A sparkling Regency romance, spiced with a dash of intrigue!

Available from Harlequin®Historical and MARY NICHOLS

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Dear Deceiver #213

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

The girl, sitting on a rickety chair in the potting shed watching the young man lovingly tend a delicate plant he had been nurturing, wore a pair of breeches tucked into riding boots, a cream-coloured shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a sackcloth apron. Her hair was tucked up beneath a scarf. The clothes were old and a little shabby, but that did not disguise the fact that they were well cut and had once, many years before, been the height of male fashion.

‘I wish I could go plant collecting,’ she said wistfully, watching his deft fingers. They were blunt and dirty, but she had become so used to that she didn’t even notice, any more than she was aware of her incongruous garb and the fact that her own fingernails were far from pristine.

‘So you can. The heath is covered in plants, if you look carefully.’

‘No, I meant exploring in foreign countries, climbing the Himalayas or trekking through China or riding a donkey in Mexico.’ Her interest in botany had been fired when, as a small girl, she had watched Joshua Pershore, their gardener, working in their garden. ‘Plants are like people,’ he had told her. ‘Look after them and they will reward you with years of pleasure.’

She had asked him if she could have a patch of garden all to herself and he had shown her how to prepare the soil and sow seed and divide plants to make more. She had watched her garden grow, excitedly noting the first snowdrop, the delicate petals of roses and the way the bulbs died down each year and sprang up anew the next spring. And when she discovered that Toby also shared her passion, it forged a bond between them that sometimes carried them into the realms of fantasy.

She dreamed of emulating the great plant hunters like Sir Joseph Banks, who had travelled with Captain Cook and transformed the Royal gardens at Kew from a pleasure ground to a great botanic garden with specimens from all over the world. And there were others whose exploits and discoveries had fired her interest, men like Francis Masson, and David Nelson, who had been both with Captain Cook when he was murdered by hostile natives and later on the ill-fated voyage with Captain Bligh when he had been cast adrift with him in an open boat when the crew mutinied. That feat had made sure the captain’s name went down in history, though David Nelson lost all his specimens.

‘You’ll have to marry a rich husband and then perhaps he will take you.’

‘I’d rather go with you.’

‘Then you will have a long wait. It takes a great deal of blunt and that’s something I haven’t got. I need a rich sponsor who will pay for everything, and where I am going to find one of those I do not know.’

‘Then why talk about it?’

‘I can dream, can’t I?’

‘Yes, and so can I.’

He looked closely at her. She was unaware how beautiful she was with hair the colour of a glossy ripe chestnut and brown eyes set in a classically oval face. She had a small straight nose and a determined chin and he loved her. Not that he could ever tell her that; she was far and away above him and he, the son of the estate steward, did not aspire to such dizzy heights, for all the freedom his father was allowed in running the Harley domain. ‘Is that all you dream of? Don’t you think of things like come-outs and balls and being courted by all the young eligibles in town?’

‘Mama is always talking about giving me a Season,’ she said.

‘I have contrived to delay it until now, but Livvy turned seventeen last month and she says she will bring us both out together and I suppose I will have to agree for Livvy’s sake. According to Mama, it is not the thing for the younger sister to marry before the elder, everyone will think there is something wrong with me.’

‘So there is if you are averse to balls and tea parties and being sought after by all the beaux of the ton.’

‘I want to do something practical, something I’ll be famous for. The woman who discovered a new plant, hitherto unknown to man.’

‘Pigs might fly!’

‘That’s what you dream of and I know you mean to try and make it come true.’

‘I’m a man.’

There was no answer to that and she stood up and brushed crumbs of soil from her breeches. ‘I must go. My uncle James is coming on a visit and I have to change.’

‘The Duke of Belfont,’ he murmured. ‘I should think he’d have a fit if he could see you now.’

She laughed and hurried out of the building and along the path that led back to the house.

It was all very well to dress eccentrically in the confines of the grounds around Beechgrove—breeches and a shirt were far the most practical attire for gardening—but she knew that it was hardly the apparel for a nineteen-year-old brought up in polite society. Her mother had long since given up remonstrating with her, asking only that she never appeared in public thus dressed and certainly not before her uncle, the Duke of Belfont. Uncle James never forgot his rank and took his role as guardian very seriously. To Beth and her sister he was a stern disciplinarian, though Mama said that was only his way and he wanted to do his best for his nieces. And today he was coming to make the arrangements for that dreaded come-out.

‘Harri, can that be Elizabeth?’ James was standing in the back parlour of Beechgrove, which looked out on the terrace from which steps led to well-manicured lawns and flower beds bright with the yellow of daffodils and the amber of gilly flowers. Beyond that, though it was hidden by a shrubbery, he knew there was a walled kitchen garden and a row of greenhouses and outhouses. It was from that direction the figure on the path had come.

Harriet left the tea tray over which she had been presiding to come and stand beside him. ‘Yes, I am afraid it is.’

‘Good God!’ He watched as Beth strode down the path, head thrown back, arms swinging; if it were not for her feminine curves, he would have taken her for a boy.

‘She likes to help in the garden and that is by far the most practical mode of dress. She is decently covered and can move about without snagging her garments on thorns and suchlike. We should be for ever mending if—’

He turned towards her. ‘Are you telling me you allow it?’

‘Yes, so long as she stays in the garden and we have no guests.’

‘Then it is as well I am here. The sooner she is installed at Belfont House and taught how a young lady should dress and behave the better.’

‘James, she knows perfectly well how to dress and behave. You are being unkind to her.’

‘And how do you suppose a prospective husband would react if he could see her now?’

‘But there is no one here, certainly not a prospective husband.’

He sighed and returned to his seat. ‘Oh, Harri, why did you not marry again? You would never have had this trouble if there had been a man in the house.’

‘I am not having trouble, James. You are making a mountain out of a molehill. And I did not wish to marry again. And as for a man, why would I want one of those, when I have you?’

He laughed suddenly; it lightened his rather stern features and made him look more like the boy she had grown up with, before he had unexpectedly been forced to take on the role of Duke and head of the family. ‘And what about Olivia? Is she dressed like the potboy?’

‘No. She has gone riding dressed in her green habit.’ She smiled. ‘Very decorous it is too.’

He accepted a cup of tea from her. ‘Then what about bringing them to Belfont House for the Season? You used to come every year before I married Sophie.’

‘You needed me to act as your hostess, but, now you have Sophie, you don’t.’

‘Come as our guests. Sophie will enjoy your company and we can give the girls a Season to remember.’

‘Thank you, James. Let’s put it to the girls over dinner.’

Put it to the girls, he mused, as if they would be allowed to veto the suggestion. He decided not to comment.

When the two girls appeared at the dining table, they were dressed decorously. Beth’s gown was in deep rose-pink silk with a boat-shaped neck, which emphasised her smooth shoulders and long neck. The waistline, in its natural place, was encircled by a wide ribbon. Her hair had been brushed and coiled on top of her head. Livvy was in a blue gown that almost exactly mirrored the colour of her eyes. It was trimmed with quantities of matching lace. They curtsied to their uncle. ‘Good evening, Uncle,’ they said together.

He bowed slightly. ‘Elizabeth. Olivia.’

‘Oh, we are in for a scolding,’ Livvy said, as they took their places at the table and the maids moved forward to serve them. ‘His Grace is being formal.’

In spite of himself, James laughed. ‘Not at all, but you are both young ladies now and must be treated as such.’

‘Does that mean we are to be given more freedom?’ Beth asked.

‘What can you mean, more freedom?’ he queried. ‘You are not confined, are you? You may come and go within reason. I go so far as to say you are allowed far more licence that most young ladies in your position.’

Beth realised that he had seen her coming back to the house, in spite of the care she had taken to come in by the kitchen door and take the back stairs to her room. It probably meant her mother had been scolded about it and she was sorry for that. How she hated the unnatural manners of society, which dictated how she should behave. If she had been a boy…She smiled to herself; she would be Sir Something-or-other Harley, baronet and master of Beechgrove.

It was a large solid house, built a century before in rich red brick. She loved it, she loved everything about it, its nooks and crannies, the huge kitchens, the gleaming windows, the mix of old and new furniture, the surrounding gardens, particularly the gardens, which people came from miles to see and admire. Beth had jokingly suggested they ought to charge them for the privilege, but her mother had been horrified at the very idea. It was their duty to be hospitable, she said.

‘You are smiling,’ her uncle commented, while her mother picked at the fish on her plate. ‘Will you share the joke with us?’

‘I was thinking what it must be like to be a boy.’

It was the wrong thing to say because it reminded him of what he had seen. ‘Elizabeth, you are not a boy, you are a young lady, and wearing male clothes will not make you one. Where did you get them from?’

‘I found them in the attic. I believe they belonged to Papa before he went into the army. He must have been quite slender then, for they fit me well enough.’

That was what she reminded him of when he had seen her in the garden: her long-dead father. She had the same proud walk; had Harriet noticed it too? Was that why she had allowed it, to bring back a little of the husband she had lost or perhaps conjure up the son she had never had but had always longed for? ‘I think it is time you had a Season and learned what is expected of you,’ he said. ‘You, too, Livvy. Naturally, I shall sponsor you both.’

‘Oh, that means every impoverished bachelor in town will be all over us,’ Beth said. ‘The famous Harley girls, nieces to the Duke of Belfont, on the marriage mart, the objects of every rake, gambler and spotty young shaver who fancies his chances. It will be hateful.’

‘You must have a very poor opinion of me if you think I will allow that to happen,’ he said. ‘You will be protected from the undesirable—’

‘And from anyone in the least bit interesting too.’

‘Not at all. Credit me with a little compassion.’

‘Beth, please don’t be difficult,’ Harriet said.

‘I am sorry, Mama, but you know how I feel about the false way husbands are chosen. I want to be in love with the man I marry. Who he is, and how rich he is, is unimportant.’

‘You will not be forced into marriage, Beth,’ James said gently. ‘The idea is simply to introduce you to society and to allow you to choose for yourself. Your mother married for love, I married for love—I do not see why you should not do so too.’

‘Within reason,’ she added, suddenly thinking of Toby. He was so easy with her, but then they had known each other since they were tiny children, had as good as grown up together, and the difference in their status was unimportant.

‘Within reason,’ James concurred, as if he could guess her thoughts.

‘I should like to be married,’ Livvy put in. ‘He must be handsome, of course, and not too old, but rich enough to have extensive stables. Horses must be his passion.’

James laughed. ‘Then we shall have to see if we can suit you. But there is no hurry, you are still very young.’

‘And Beth must be accommodated first.’

‘That would be best,’ their mother put in.

‘Then I do hope you are not going to be difficult, Beth,’ Livvy said, turning to her sister. ‘I do not want to let my perfect partner slip through my fingers because you are prevaricating.’

Beth longed to suggest that they should go without her and leave her to her gardening and her dreams of becoming a famous botanist, but she knew that would upset her mother, so she said nothing. They spent some time discussing the arrangements, when they would travel and whom they would take. Jeannette, her mother’s maid, would accompany them, of course, and Miss Andover, known as Nan, who had been the girls’ governess but had agreed to take over the role of maid to the girls. They no longer needed a teacher and she had decided it was better than being pensioned off. Their coachman would drive them and Edward Grimble, the young groom, would ride Livvy’s mare, Zephyr. She positively refused to go without her horse and her mama would not let her ride her all the way to London herself.

‘What about you?’ James asked Beth. ‘Do you wish to have your mount brought to town?’

Beth wished she could suggest Toby rode her horse to London, then at least she would have some sensible company, someone to talk to. They might even go to Kew Gardens together, but she knew it was too much to ask. He would not leave his work in the garden; nature could not wait on her whims. ‘I will be quite content with a hired hack, Uncle, thank you,’ she said. Wealthy as he was, and however extensive the stables at Dersingham Park, his country seat, he did not keep many horses in London.

‘Then shall we say ten days from now? You will be there right at the beginning of the season.’

‘And shall we be invited to the coronation?’ Livvy asked.

‘Oh, Livvy, surely you do not want to attend that,’ Beth put in. ‘All that dressing up in the heat of the summer and standing about for hours and hours and for what?’

‘To see the King and Queen crowned, of course.’

‘If her Majesty is allowed anywhere near the ceremony,’ Beth added. She held no brief for the Royal family, what with the King’s numerous affairs and his efforts to discredit his wife so that he could divorce her and not have her acknowledged as Queen. He had failed in that and Caroline was still the Queen, though King George refused to have anything to do with her and she lived in a separate establishment. Now the question was, would she be crowned with him?

‘You will be going, Uncle James, won’t you?’ Livvy queried.

‘I shall have no choice, not only because every aristocrat in the land will be expected to attend, but I am on his Majesty’s staff and involved in the arrangements.’ It was why he had been obliged to leave his country estate earlier than usual to take up residence in London.

‘In that case, why take on the extra responsibility of bringing us out?’ Beth asked.

‘That, my dear Beth, will be a pleasure and a privilege.’

Beth felt she was being propelled willy-nilly into something she knew was going to be a disaster. She would have to pretend to enjoy herself or her mother would be hurt and her uncle annoyed, yet it was not in her nature to be anything but honest; pretending would come hard. And she would be leaving Beechgrove just when everything was coming into growth, all the plants and seedlings being planted out, and the rare specimens that Toby had been nurturing would be showing their worth.

‘But, dearest, they will all still be here at the end of the Season,’ her mother said when she tried to explain how she felt. Harriet had come to her daughter’s room to say goodnight as she did every night and was sitting on the bed beside Beth. It was a precious time when they talked companionably together and problems were ironed out. ‘It is not as if you are going away for ever. Even if you find a husband, you will still come home to be married from here.’

‘I cannot imagine finding a husband among the fops who lounge about town ogling the young ladies being paraded like cattle at market.’

‘They are not all like that. I met your papa during my come-out Season and he was certainly not a fop. He was handsome and intelligent and not at all affected.’

‘You were lucky.’

‘Who is not to say you will not be lucky too? And if you meet no one to your liking, then there is no harm done. You will be out and that will make it easier for you to go out and about when you spend another Season in town.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Tomorrow, we shall go into Sudbury and have Madame Bonchance make up travelling clothes for us. The rest of our shopping can wait until we arrive. The Duke has offered to pay our bills. Is that not kind of him?’

‘Why? We are not poor relations, are we?’

‘No, not exactly poor, dearest, but nothing like as rich as your uncle. Not rich at all, if truth be told. I have never bothered you with things like that before, but now I must confess that the money your dear father left us has been sadly depleted by the needs of the estate and his investments have not performed as well as they might. We need to be frugal.’

‘Does that mean we have no dowries?’

‘Oh, nothing as bad as that. James will provide your dowries, that has always been understood.’

‘Would it not be better to forgo the come-out and let me earn a living?’

‘Good heavens, no! Whatever made you think that? It would not look well at all, especially for your uncle. He would not have it said he was too close to look after his sister’s children.’ She paused suddenly, a small frown creasing her brow. ‘Has Toby been filling your head with nonsense about working for a living?’

‘No, not at all, Toby’s not like that. He has always behaved properly. But, Mama, he has to work, so does his father and all the servants and they seem content enough.’

‘I doubt it. And it is not the same thing at all. They were born to it, they know that is their lot in life, but you never were. I am beginning to wish I had said nothing to you…’

Beth flung her arms about her mother. ‘Oh, Mama, we have always been able to talk to each other and I would hate it if you felt you could not tell me things.’

Harriet kissed her daughter’s brow. ‘Then let us be thankful for what we have. And, Beth, there is no need to say anything to Livvy…’

‘No, of course not. Our secret.’

Her mother left and Beth blew out the candle, but she did not fall asleep immediately. She could not stop thinking about her mother’s confession and wondering how much of a difference it would make to her life. Would she have to accept an offer of marriage simply because it came from a rich man who could maintain Beechgrove in the old way? And if she did not, did it mean that some of the servants would have to be let go? Mama had not replaced the last chambermaid who had left to be married. Would Toby have to go? Her private dream, the one in which she offered to finance his plant-hunting trip on condition he took her with him, was no more than that: a pipe dream. It made her want to cry, not only for herself but for Toby too. Would a rich husband serve the same purpose? She thumped her pillow angrily. The time had not yet come when she would stoop to that.