Lady Vane's Secret (Regency Secrets and Scandals Book 1) Read online

‘That is the Earl of Bramwell, who is at this moment being joined by Mr Frederick Isherwood,’ explained Sir Seymour, observing the second gentleman who had come to stand next to Lord Bramwell. ‘It is unusual to see either at an event like this, but Mr Isherwood is Lady Pargeter’s nephew so that must be the reason for their attendance this evening.’

  ‘Lord Bramwell cuts a very handsome figure,’ said Harriet in a low voice.

  ‘He is considered a Corinthian, a man who excels in every sporting pursuit, but I think him a little reckless,’ remarked Sir Seymour. ‘He has a devil-may-care approach to life which seems attractive to ladies, it would be injurious to my health to indulge in the ill-advised escapades which appeal to Lord Bramwell.’

  ‘Ill-advised escapades?’ echoed Harriet, intrigued.

  ‘Oh, nothing too serious, you understand – he is a leader of the ton, after all – but Lord Bramwell is usually to be found at the centre of some harebrained scheme or sporting bet,’ explained Sir Seymour. ‘I hear he intends to drive down to Brighton tomorrow in his curricle in less than four and a half hours, simply to answer a wager. Madness! I should be confined to bed for a week if I attempted such a feat.’

  ‘Any reasonable person would not attempt it,’ agreed Isabella vehemently. She was aware of Harriet’s look of surprise – this was severe criticism for an activity that most young men of the day took part in and was generally considered harmless – but as far as Isabella was concerned, Lord Bramwell had already earned her scorn. She had endured enough reckless and inconsiderate behaviour to last a lifetime and had no desire to become acquainted with anyone who followed that path.

  This resolution was destined to be quickly broken: Isabella, alone for a few moments some time later, found Lord Bramwell’s tall figure had suddenly appeared at her side.

  ‘I have appealed to Lady Pargeter for the last hour to introduce me, but either you are engaged, or her attention is diverted before she can do so, and I can wait no longer,’ he said. ‘May I introduce myself and hope that you will excuse my abominable lack of manners? It is only because I am impatient to meet you.’ He bowed and smiled engagingly. ‘Lord Bramwell, at your service, Lady Vane.’

  Forced to acknowledge him, Isabella turned to look up into his face. Lord Bramwell was undeniably handsome; his features were well defined and attractive, there was no dandyish affectation in his courteous manner and his physique was clearly that of a sportsman. A smile lurked in the grey eyes which gazed down into hers and he was close enough for Isabella to have momentarily felt his warm breath on her cheek as he spoke. The smooth rich timbre of his voice washed over her and, unbidden, the thought flashed into her mind that Lord Bramwell was the embodiment of her ideal. She pushed it away ruthlessly; having already been introduced to Sir Seymour and the amiable Mr Isherwood, who was quite as handsome as Lord Bramwell, with no similar effects, Isabella felt annoyed at her reaction.

  Reluctantly, she gave him her hand, aware of the latent strength in his grasp. A quiver ran through her as he unexpectedly bent his head to brush his lips over her knuckles. ‘Good evening, Lord Bramwell,’ she replied in a voice of cool disdain and snatched her hand away.

  He raised his brows at her icy tone but merely said, ‘Are you enjoying Lady Pargeter’s hospitality?’

  ‘She has been most kind; Lady Pargeter is an old acquaintance of my aunt’s.’

  ‘I see. I understand that you are newly arrived in London and have taken a house in Curzon Street?’

  ‘Yes.’ Isabella felt her animosity rise: had he been making enquiries about her? She knew she was being unjust – his comments were innocuous to say the least – but she only felt secure if the relative anonymity she had built around herself and her family remained intact, and Lord Bramwell’s keen gaze seemed to reach into her innermost thoughts.

  ‘Lady Pargeter informed me earlier when I asked to be introduced; I was not aware that you were staying in Town,’ he explained. ‘Do you intend to stay for the season?’

  ‘I cannot say. The length of our stay will depend on other circumstances,’ replied Isabella, feeling a little contrite; whatever else Lord Bramwell was, it appeared he was not a tattle-monger.

  ‘Your presence will grace London society however long you are here.’

  Isabella blushed. ‘There is no need to offer me approbation,’ she replied sharply.

  ‘But it is not empty praise: I merely speak the truth,’ murmured Hal, who was unable to remove his gaze from the most enchanting face he had ever beheld. His expression suddenly became quizzical and he added, ‘Have I offended you in some way, Lady Vane? I suspect that you do not look upon me kindly, although I cannot think why as we have only just met. That is unfortunate because I feel an overwhelming desire at this moment to kiss you thoroughly and restore your good humour. And in case you think me mad, I assure you such disregard for the proprieties is entirely out of character.’

  Isabella stared at him, at a loss how to reply to this direct and wholly unexpected speech. She quickly decided he was making fun of her – it must be an agreeable form of verbal dalliance in London to suggest kissing a lady one had just met. Her annoyance towards Lord Bramwell grew, as did her indignation at his ill-judged humour. ‘Are you enjoying a joke at my expense, Lord Bramwell?’ she asked curtly. ‘If so, I find it most distasteful.’

  A tinge of colour crept into his lean cheeks. ‘No, indeed. Please forgive me – that was a foolish, clumsy thing to say, and I certainly did not mean to embarrass you. What a graceless fellow you must think me now!’

  Isabella observed, not entirely truthfully, ‘But how could I reach any opinion of you in such a short time, Lord Bramwell?’

  ‘I hardly know – I have already begged your pardon and tried to excuse any possible incivility in the manner of my introduction,’ he said, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Perhaps my supposed reputation has gone before me; Sir Seymour, although harmless, is always ready with his opinions.’

  Isabella coloured deliciously as this accurate observation hit home. She tried to appease her conscience by saying, ‘Whatever opinions Sir Seymour may have, I would try not to let them influence mine.’

  ‘I simply ask that you form an opinion based on what you see, and not on my reputation.’ He hesitated and then continued, ‘Please excuse my forthright manner, but I should like permission to call upon you in Curzon Street in the near future.’

  She turned her clear gaze fully upon him and, in an unguarded moment, evinced surprise and confusion.

  ‘W – Why ever would you want to—?’ stammered Isabella. ‘That is, I suppose, you may call if you wish, but I – I might be engaged and unable to receive you.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ he said, smiling, ‘and I should not wish to intrude upon your time too greatly, but my sister, Lady Julia Cavanagh, arrives in London next week for her first season and I cannot help but think that she would be as pleased to make your acquaintance as I have been. Would you be prepared to meet her? I am persuaded she would think it delightful if you could.’

  Shocked by this request, Isabella regarded him in silence. Not an hour before, she had determined never to have any conversation with Lord Bramwell, a devil-may-care Corinthian whose way of life was abhorrent to her. Now, he had introduced himself, declared his desire to kiss her soundly and wanted her to meet his sister!

  Compelled to answer as he stood waiting for her response, she cast about in her mind for an excuse but could see no way of extricating herself without being abominably rude. Isabella consoled herself with the thought that perhaps he did not intend to carry out his threat of calling in Curzon Street.

  ‘Very well,’ she replied, ‘if you insist upon it, we shall be happy to receive you and your sister, but I fear you will both find it tedious.’

  He smiled and said cryptically, ‘I thought this evening would be tedious and I have been proved quite wrong. Please excuse me, Lady Vane; Mr Isherwood is searching for me and it appears he is ready to leave. I look forward to calling on you in th
e near future.’ He bowed once more and moved away to join his friend.

  Isabella’s heart sank as she stared at his retreating figure. Her attendance here had resulted in exactly the situation she was most afraid of and now she must endure visits from Sir Seymour and Lord Bramwell. The first did not concern her unduly and she would look forward to with some amusement; the second was an entirely different matter and filled her with trepidation. It seemed Lord Bramwell had the ability to jeopardize her carefully schooled emotions and it was imperative she did not allow that to happen.

  Chapter 4

  Four days after meeting Lady Vane, Lord Bramwell strolled into the subscription room at White’s. His appearance was greeted by cheers from everyone present and within moments, he was surrounded by a large group of the club’s members, young and old, all clamouring for details of how he had achieved his triumph. They included Sir Walter Kendray himself, who congratulated Hal on beating his London to Brighton time.

  ‘Never thought you would do it, Bramwell,’ cried Sir Walter. ‘Four hours and twenty-five minutes exactly, eh? A fine achievement and a compliment to your driving skills and your horses. Your bays are the best matched team I have seen – allow me first refusal if you decide to sell.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir Walter, but I have no intention of parting with my horses just yet.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame you – would do the same myself.’ Drawing out his pocket book, Sir Walter said, ‘Shall I settle our wager now?’

  Hal shook his head. ‘I am dining here this evening so we can settle our account then.’ He then added with a grin, ‘And if we meet at the gaming tables, you may have the opportunity to regain your losses.’

  ‘What, with your luck and skill at cards?’ asked Sir Walter, with an incredulous laugh. ‘I sincerely doubt it, although I shall be happy to try provided the stakes are not too high – I have no stomach for losing my fortune on the turn of a card.’

  ‘Nor have I,’ acknowledged Hal. ‘In spite of my reputation, I never take unnecessary risks.’

  Freddy Isherwood joined them then and, after congratulating Hal once more, Sir Walter returned to the game of cards he was involved in.

  ‘Well, Freddy?’ asked Hal, ‘Did you have the good sense to place a small wager on my success?’

  ‘Matter of fact, I did.’

  ‘At least you put your faith in my ability eventually,’ said Hal, amused. ‘Now, to more serious matters – did you carry out my request?’

  ‘Yes, though I can’t say it will do you much good,’ said Freddy. ‘Delivered the flowers to Lady Vane, just as you asked, along with your compliments. I didn’t see her in person though. Her aunt came down and was very pretty in her thanks on Lady Vane’s behalf, but said she was out of the house running an errand. I don’t know if that was the truth or not, but Lady Vane had already received a great number of flower posies and invitations.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have delivered the flowers myself when I returned to London, but I was impatient to send her my compliments and to atone for a clumsy comment I made during our conversation,’ said Hal.

  ‘I see,’ mused Freddy. ‘Well, Mrs Forster reeled off the list of people who had called in Curzon Street. Seems Lady Vane is extremely popular although that’s hardly surprising – most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen! Apart from,’ he added, with a grin, ‘your sister, of course.’

  ‘I expected nothing less, Freddy. She is a bewitchingly lovely creature and all of London will fall at her feet. But I am intrigued by more than her beauty: she seemed offended by me.’

  ‘Lord, Hal, why should anyone take offence at you, least of all Lady Vane? She has only just arrived in town.’

  Lord Bramwell shrugged. ‘I acknowledge my imperfections; perhaps I should have been more formal in my introduction and, as I said, I made an unfortunate remark. Yet I do not believe she was piqued only by that. No, there is something else and I mean to discover what it is.’

  ‘I wish you luck but you’ll have to fight your way to her through Dinny – he’s already called in Curzon Street twice and Mrs Forster told me that Lady Vane had received him on one occasion,’ said Freddy.

  Hal raised his brows at this but said no more – he had no desire to share even with Freddy all his reflections on Lady Vane. He had been mesmerized from the moment he had laid eyes on her, feeling almost as if he had received a physical blow. Stirred by this strange madness, he had subsequently struggled to stay his planned three days in Brighton because he had wanted to hurry back in the hope of seeing her again. He had encountered many beautiful women before, and admired them, but not one had refused to leave his thoughts like Isabella Vane had.

  Since Felicity Richmond had broken their engagement and eloped with Lord Portland, Hal had not sought out any women who expected more affection than he was willing to give. The optimism he had given to that youthful love affair had been dashed on the vicious rocks of reality and when, eventually, he had realized that it was his pride that had been damaged and not his heart, he had determined to stay away from any serious attachments with women in the future – they seemed to offer only pain and embarrassment.

  This he had done, and the care of his family and the responsibilities associated with his estates had taken precedence. His reputation had arisen from escapades that he undertook simply for the challenge they represented. Hal did not care that most of London admired him for his sporting and gaming prowess and knew nothing of his other interests and philanthropic work.

  But Hal had discovered that he did care what Lady Vane thought of him. Her curious elusive air, a mixture of sadness, reserve and striking beauty, struck an unexpected chord deep within him. He had glimpsed vulnerability behind her cold glances which, to his surprise, appealed to his protective instincts. Yet she obviously disliked him from the outset and in the intervening hours since their meeting, Hal had struggled to think of any serious indiscretion he might have committed.

  Bitterly, he cursed himself for having said that he would like to kiss away her ill humour. He did not know what had madness had possessed him to utter such a tactless remark, even though he admitted ruefully that it had been the truth and he had simply spoken his thoughts aloud. But Lady Vane had not then trilled her delight and begun a determined flirtation – she seemed unaware of her allure and he had not detected an ounce of vanity – nor did he think she reacted with disdain for prudish reasons. Her dislike had been present even before his comment and it irked him that he could not account for it.

  Sir Seymour might have discussed him with Lady Vane, but Hal knew that Dinny was no liar and his amiable nature possessed no malice; again, nothing Sir Seymour could have said would have induced her contempt.

  There must be another reason, one that Hal felt compelled to uncover.

  Harriet glanced at her niece in frustration as Isabella instructed Silwood to inform Lord Marston, who was waiting downstairs, that they were not at home to callers.

  ‘I do not understand you,’ observed Harriet, after Silwood had left the room. ‘You refuse to see any of the pleasant young men who have called here since we attended Lady Pargeter’s party. They are merely being polite and for you to spurn their admiration is unkind. You may be considered a cold-hearted creature if you do not show a little more interest.’

  Isabella raised her brows and gave a quizzical smile. ‘Do you think me cold, Aunt?’

  ‘No, indeed! You are the kindest, most considerate young woman,’ said Harriet earnestly. ‘I simply believe that you could receive more of your admirers than you seem inclined to at present.’

  ‘But for what reason, Harriet? I have no desire to encourage any gentleman.’ Isabella sighed, sadness shadowing her eyes. ‘Now we are in society again, I realize how much I wish to avoid people.’ Noting her aunt’s shocked expression, she continued, ‘Oh, do not fear that I will become a recluse – I should never do so, and certainly do not want Dominic to become afraid of society. But I cannot trust anyone yet and I will not allow my—that is to say
, our current peace of mind to be ruined, particularly by men who only wish to beguile the season away with an agreeable flirtation.’

  ‘They may not all be so frivolous,’ protested Harriet, indignant. ‘Why, Lord Marston has called every morning this past three days, as have many others – they might genuinely wish to know you better.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I take care for all our sakes, not merely my own. Do not think too harshly of me, Harriet. Perhaps there will be someone one day to whom I can entrust my feelings, and those of my family.’

  ‘But how shall you meet such a person if you will not even receive morning callers?’ she grumbled.

  Isabella laughed outright at this, her smile lighting up her features. ‘Then I make you a promise not to turn every well-meaning young man away from our door.’

  ‘Sir Seymour is taken with your charms,’ said Harriet, glancing at her niece from under her lashes, ‘You seemed content to endure his visit, my love.’

  ‘Because he does not threaten my equanimity,’ replied Isabella. ‘Oh, it is difficult to explain precisely how I feel. I am conscious of Sir Seymour’s admiration, but I do not feel intimidated by it. Besides, he is such an absurdly eccentric creature, and I found his visit entertaining.’

  ‘Yes, he always has interesting information to impart.’

  This reply, apparently delivered with all seriousness by Harriet, drew a look of amusement and surprise from Isabella but she offered no comment.

  ‘But why then did you refuse to see Mr Isherwood?’ continued her companion. ‘The poor man was quite desperate to pass on the posy of flowers and compliments from Lord Bramwell, and yet you would not see him.’

  ‘I cannot condemn Mr Isherwood, but Lord Bramwell is a different matter – and he did not even trouble to deliver his flowers in person.’

  Harriet tutted. ‘Uncharitable, Isabella! You know very well that Lord Bramwell was in Brighton; Mr Isherwood said his lordship would have delivered the posy himself if he had been in town.’