The Society Catch (Harlequin Historical) Read online

  Joanna put a hand on his arm as he sat down again, his lips tight, his eyes shadowed. ‘I am sorry. That was very stupid and thoughtless of me. Of course, you must do what is best for your family. But has he truly disinherited you?’

  Giles smiled, this time with real humour. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He will be regretting it now, although I doubt if he is regretting the strip he tore off me and the lecture I got on doing my duty and settling down with a conformable, suitable wife!’

  Joanna took a drink of lemonade as the best way of hiding her reaction. So, the old general did not consider Lady Suzanne a suitable wife. Why ever not? She seemed eminently eligible to Joanna, but perhaps he thought her too flighty to make his son a good match. A faint glimmer of hope stirred in her breast. Would Giles heed his father? Would the General’s opinions make him reconsider?

  But, no, surely if he loved Suzanne he would not give her up, and much as it hurt, Joanna would not want him, too. She could only think less of him if he was the sort of man who could turn from true love under pressure.

  ‘You are looking very serious,’ he said after a moment. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Much better, truly,’ Joanna reassured him. ‘I was just worried about you and your father. Now you are even further away, and it is all my fault. What if he wants to contact you and make peace?’

  Giles laughed. ‘My mama, who packed me off back to town to indulge in a course of carefully calculated dissipation, assured me it would be at least two weeks before he would admit to any regrets in the matter and another two after that to digest the rumours of my behaviour, which my assorted well-meaning aunts would send back.’

  ‘Dissipation? But what…?’

  ‘The plan, according to Mama, is that he will summon me back in order to engage me in some salutary hard work and will then get accustomed to having the prodigal around and will be reconciled to my assisting with the estate.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Joanna said rather blankly. ‘Do you think it will work?’

  ‘Mama has been winding my father around her little finger for thirty-five years and I have never known her wrong yet.’

  ‘Yes, but you are hardly engaging in dissipation, are you? What sort of dissipation, anyway?’

  ‘Cards, horses, um…’

  ‘Um?’

  ‘I do seem to be having the most improper conversations with you, Miss Fulgrave! Wicked widows and fast matrons is what my outrageous mama had in mind, I think.’

  ‘More than one mistress at once?’ Joanna asked, trying to imagine her own mother recommending such a course of action to William in fifteen years’ time and failing utterly. ‘Isn’t that terribly expensive and complicated?’

  ‘As I have never had more than one at a time I have no idea. Expensive, certainly. But complicated?’

  ‘I shouldn’t imagine they would take very kindly to sharing you,’ Joanna said, frowning over the practicalities. ‘You would have to keep them apart and remember what you had said to each… Have you had many?’

  Giles sank his head in his hands with a groan. ‘Oh lord, what have I let myself say! Your mama would have fits if she knew. Yes, I have had mistresses, in Portugal and in Spain, and only one at a time, and we parted very amicably in every case, before you ask! And, no, I am not going to tell you about any of them.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ Joanna said penitently. ‘I did not mean to put you to the blush, but I feel that I can ask you about things that no one else will explain. I mean, it is obvious that lots of men in society have mistresses, and even I can guess that some ladies are, well…not entirely faithful to their husbands. But no one ever says anything about it and it seems a bit late to find out after one is married.’

  ‘I cannot imagine,’ Giles said, putting one hand over hers and squeezing it reassuringly, ‘that any husband of yours would contemplate setting up a mistress for one second. Especially this mysterious suitor you are so imprudently fleeing from. He seems most devoted!’

  Joanna ignored the reference to Lord Clifton, for she was fighting the urge to curl her fingers into his and return the pressure. Somehow it hadn’t hurt to know there had been other women in his life: she had expected it, the man was not a monk. But being so close to him, his kindness, almost overset her.

  ‘I don’t expect to marry,’ she said, attempting to laugh it off and freeing her hand to reach for an apple, ‘so it really doesn’t arise. I meant, it was a bit late for young ladies in general to find out about that sort of thing.’

  ‘Not marry? Why ever not?’ Giles took the apple from her hand, picked up a knife and began to peel it, the ribbon of red skin curling over his hand.

  Joanna shrugged, trying not to look at his long fingers dexterously wielding the knife. What would it be like to be caressed by them? She shivered. ‘My mysterious suitor, as you term him, is not someone whose regard I return—in fact, I dislike him excessively. My affections are engaged elsewhere, but the man I love, loves someone else.’

  ‘Is that what upset you at the Duchess’s ball?’ He handed her back the apple. ‘You found out about it?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Goodness, how had she let herself talk about this?

  ‘But just because one man has let you down, it doesn’t mean you should give up on the entire sex,’ Giles said, watching her with a frown between his straight brows. ‘There are many other men—the one who is attempting to make you an offer, for example. Are you sure you know him well enough to have formed such a negative impression?’

  ‘Quite sure! I dislike the way he looks at me—and he tried to blackmail me after I had got into a scrape.’ She caught his quizzical expression and nodded, ‘Yes, that night at Vauxhall. And, yes, it is Rufus Carstairs, I suppose you have already guessed. But as for marrying someone I do not love—how can you say that?’ Joanna was hurt and surprised that he could fail to understand. ‘If the lady you love spurned you, could you just shrug and walk away and think “I’ll find someone else”? Of course you could not, not if it were true love! I will never feel like this about anyone else, and I will not marry anyone I don’t love.

  ‘Imagine being tied to someone you did not hold in the deepest affection! I know some unfortunate women find themselves having to accept distasteful suitors, or men have to make duty marriages to restore their family fortunes, and I truly pity all of them. I would rather remain a spinster than marry anyone other than…him. And,’ she added vehemently, ‘I cannot like or trust Lord Clifton.’

  Giles appeared taken aback by her vehemence, but, although he had raised his eyebrows on hearing who her suitor was, he said nothing, so she asked, ‘Will you obey your father in the question of your marriage?’

  ‘No!’ he retorted hotly. ‘I will not!’

  ‘You see? In matters of the heart, feelings run very deep.’

  He regarded her thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. ‘You are sure that this unfortunate experience has not made the entire business of marriage distasteful to you?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Joanna looked directly into his concerned grey eyes and smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, no, not if it were marriage to the man I love.’

  Chapter Eight

  That evening brought a report that Milo Thomas had been intercepted near Lincoln and three distressed young women rescued. Joanna wondered anxiously about the reception they would receive when they returned to their homes and whether they would have the reassurance and support she was enjoying from Giles and from the Geddings.

  ‘And what about the ones who are already in those dreadful places?’ she asked vehemently as they sat down to dinner. ‘What is going to happen to them?’

  ‘I will be laying evidence with the Bow Street magistrates,’ the Squire said reassuringly. ‘They will check all of the addresses in Thoroughgood’s notebooks and ensure that every young woman there is free to leave. If any have been kidnapped and, er…forced, then the justices will take the appropriate action.’

  ‘Yes, but what becomes of the women?’ Joanna persisted. ‘What on earth happens to th
em?’ There was an uncomfortable silence around the table. ‘When I get back to London I am going to do something about this.’

  ‘My dear,’ Mrs Gedding said gently, ‘there is nothing that an unmarried girl of good family can do about it.’

  Joanna knew that was likely to be only too true. ‘Oh, I wish I were a rich widow!’ she declared vehemently. Giles sat back in his chair with a gasp of laughter and she caught his eye, defiantly. ‘Well, I do! Not that I would wish anyone dead, of course not, but it seems to me that the only women who have any freedom of action at all are rich widows.’

  The Squire looked faintly scandalised and, although Mrs Gedding sent her an amused look of understanding, Joanna thought it best to take herself off to bed as soon as possible at the end of the meal.

  When she woke the next morning, it was to the feeling that she had been ill, in a fever, and that now she was back to normal. The spectres of the Thoroughgoods and her terrifying experience had become less nightmarish, although her determination to do something about the plight of the girls forced into brothels was no less ardent. Perhaps Hebe, when she had recovered from the birth, would be able to help.

  But with the sense of recovery came the anxiety about how her parents would react and the more pressing realisation that not only was she in the same house as Giles but that she had been having conversations of quite shocking frankness with him. As she dragged the brush ruthlessly through her hair, she thought it was only by some miracle that he had not guessed the identity of the man she loved, the man whose presence she was fleeing from.

  She was so preoccupied with these thoughts that she walked straight into Giles in the hall outside the little parlour that did service as a breakfast room. Joanna knew she was blushing frantically, but could think of nothing to say, other than to stammer, ‘Good morning.’

  Giles opened the door for her and ushered her through. The room was deserted. ‘Good morning, Joanna. May I pour you some coffee?’

  Joanna sat down abruptly, making a business of shaking out her napkin so as not to meet his eyes. ‘I…yes, thank you.’

  Giles put the cup in front of her and took a seat opposite. ‘Might I trouble you for the bread? Thank you. You are feeling more yourself this morning, I think.’

  ‘What?’ Joanna looked up, startled, and saw he was regarding her with an expression halfway between amusement and sympathy. ‘I am feeling better, yes, but how do you deduce that?’ Her heart was beating irregularly: did he really understand her so very well?

  She waited, biting her lower lip, while he buttered his bread, a slight frown between his brows. ‘How do I know? Well, yesterday we were having extremely frank conversations without you turning a hair. In fact, you were quite unnaturally calm, which convinced me you were still suffering from shock. This morning you react as any gently bred young lady would at the realisation that the man she has just bumped into was the very one with whom she was discussing mistresses, houses of ill repute and the perils of the married state only the day before.’ He smiled as she bowed her head in confusion. ‘You blush very prettily.’

  ‘Oh!’ Joanna gasped indignantly. ‘You are just saying that to make me blush more! Really, Gi…Colonel Gregory…’

  ‘That is better,’ he said approvingly. ‘I would have hated to see you revert entirely to—what was it your mama called you? Oh, yes, the “perfect débutante”.’

  ‘I was never that,’ Joanna said sadly, ‘although I did try so hard. Colonel, was Mama very angry?’

  Giles stood up to carve a slice of meat from the joint on the sideboard. ‘Cold beef? No? I do wish you would stop calling me Colonel. What is wrong with Giles? After all, I am a family friend, almost a friend of your childhood.’

  ‘It seems hardly proper.’

  Giles’s expression was so comical that Joanna burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Giles, do stop looking at me like that! I realise that after everything that has occurred it must seem finicky of me to cavil at first names, but believe me, I truly am trying to behave myself as I should. But do tell me about Mama.’

  Giles flipped open the lid of the mustard pot and looked round for the spoon. ‘She was not angry at all when I saw her, but you must remember she was very much shocked and upset and anxious to have you found. I cannot vouch for her mood when she knows you are safe. And, of course, she was most anxious to keep the news from your highly eligible suitor.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Joanna murmured, depressed. ‘I know exactly what you mean. When one is frightened for someone the fear is all there is. The moment they are safe you can be angry at how foolish they have been. I remember how I felt when William was stuck in the big oak in Green Park. Once the keepers had got him down safely I could have boxed his ears, yet only a minute before I was frantic with worry that he would fall out and break his neck.’

  ‘Well, I think it is unlikely that you will escape without a lecture,’ Giles said kindly, ‘but I am sure your parents will soon forgive and forget. And no one else in society but the Tasboroughs knows of this adventure, so you will be able to emerge next Season as though nothing had occurred. Although,’ he added frankly, ‘do you not think it would be a good idea not to strive to be quite such a pattern card of perfection? It must be very wearing for you, never allowing yourself to kick over the traces.’

  ‘Young ladies are not permitted to kick over the traces, as you put it,’ Joanna retorted. ‘Look at the fuss it causes.’

  ‘I meant indulging in the odd bit of mischief and high spirits, not running away and being kidnapped,’ Giles countered. ‘Suzanne is always up to something or another and it does her reputation no harm.’

  ‘I am sure if I were as beautiful, well connected and rich as Lady Suzanne,’ Joanna snapped, ‘I could get away with almost anything. We lesser mortals have to be more careful.’

  ‘But not to the point of becoming a by-word for your virtues! It is a testimony to your character that your reputation does not result in jealousy amongst the other débutantes and that you have so many friends.’

  ‘I am sure those who do not think so well of me will be most amused to see me take part in a third Season, still unspoken for,’ Joanna said bitterly. ‘I never intended to behave in any way to make other débutantes seem less…correct. I was only trying—’ She broke off. It was so easy to talk to Giles that she was in danger of saying far too much and betraying herself to him.

  ‘Trying?’ he prompted.

  ‘Trying to make sure I would be a perfect wife for…him.’ For you, only for you, her inner voice repeated.

  ‘Ah. The mystery man. Are you so sure he wants perfection?’ Giles appeared annoyed rather than curious.

  ‘He deserves it!’ she said hotly. ‘He needs a wife with perfect social skills: it is very important in his position.’ Only now, of course, Giles had voluntarily ended his glittering career. Now he had no need of a Society hostess who also understood the army, only a well-bred, suitable wife and in Lady Suzanne he most certainly had that, whatever his father thought.

  ‘Who on earth is he, this paragon who must have such an impeccable wife? A duke? A leading politician? A diplomatist?’

  ‘I am not going to tell you. It is hopeless now, anyway.’ Joanna took a mouthful of her cooling coffee and refused to look at Giles.

  ‘Then stop trying to be perfect. Relax and enjoy next Season for a change.’

  ‘To what end, pray? To put off being on the shelf for a few more months?’

  She realised that they were glaring at each other across the table. It hurt so much that Giles seemed to care about what was troubling her; his indifference would have been easier to bear. And he must care to become so involved and angry about it.

  Then his face lightened and he smiled at her. ‘Come now, it is far too nice a day to be inside squabbling. Squire Gedding has no need of me this morning and I have a treat for you. You do ride, I assume?’

  ‘Why, yes, I love to ride. But ride what?’

  ‘Did I tell you that part of my scheme now is to bree
d horses on the estate? No? Well, that is what I intend to do; it will mean that I am not spending all my time breathing down the General’s neck, and I think it might be a satisfying undertaking. I was talking to the Squire about it and he tells me a neighbour of his has a fine mare he wants to sell. He is bringing it over this morning for me to look at; I thought you might like to ride it so I can see its paces.’

  ‘Oh, yes, please!’ Joanna jumped up, then recollected her small stock of clothes. ‘But I have no habit. And what about a saddle?’

  ‘Mrs Gedding tells me her daughter’s old habit is here, and the saddle she herself used when she still kept a riding horse is in the stables. Listen—I imagine that is the neighbour now.’

  The breakfast parlour windows opened out on to the side of the house where the carriage drive led to the stables and, sure enough, Giles’s sharp ears had picked up the sound of hooves. A man on a black hunter came into sight leading a pretty grey mare on a long rein towards the yard.

  Mrs Gedding appeared in the doorway. ‘Good morning, my dear. Have you had enough breakfast? I expect the Colonel has told you all about James Pike’s grey mare. If you would like to ride her, the girl has put out Jennie’s old habit on your bed.’

  With a smile Joanna thanked her hostess and ran upstairs to change, her heart pounding. The encounter with Giles over the breakfast table had left her feeling flustered and almost frightened. But she had no opportunity to reflect alone, for the maid was waiting and Joanna had to submit to being unbuttoned and undressed, standing patiently while the habit was tossed over her head. The girl discovered with a cluck of displeasure that a section of hem had dropped and one button was loose. Joanna nodded absently as the maid asked if Miss would mind waiting while she fetched the sewing things and did a hasty repair.

  She sat on the edge of the bed while the maid rapidly whipped stitches along the hem and shrugged out of the jacket for the button to be replaced, without really being aware of what was going on. Giles, and her feelings for him, seemed to fill her mind to the exclusion of all else. She found she liked him so much it was a shock. She had known almost from the moment she met him that she loved him, but now she knew that she had fallen in love with the idea of the man, not the man himself. Perhaps if she had never seen him again after that evening at the Duchess’s ball she would have gradually fallen out of love with her memory of him. But now fate, and her own foolishness, had thrown them together so closely that there was no escaping the impact of his personality on her.