Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife. Mary Nichols
And the bag of counterfeit guineas? Have you handed it in?’
‘No, I told you that would be risky. I have hidden it.’ He took the papers out of her hand and laid them on the desk. ‘Come on, leave those, I will deal with them later. Let us go for a stroll.’
‘A stroll?’ she queried in surprise.
‘Yes, you have been indoors too long, you are looking pale. A little exercise and fresh air will be good for you.’
‘You have never taken me out walking before. And surely if you want to have a walk you should take Charlotte and the children?’
‘Charlotte has taken them to picnic in Hampstead.’
‘Why did you not go with them?’
‘Because I had business in town and I was concerned for you. Now, put on your hat and let us go to Green Park. That is where you like to walk, is it not?’
Mystified by a sudden interest in her welfare, which was not typical of him, she rose and went up to her room to throw a light shawl over her shoulders and put a hat on her own curls. She did not change her dress, having only one black gown, which would have to do until she could afford to buy another. She hated black; it ill became her, but short of defying protocol she was stuck with it.
They set off across the Oxford Road and down Tyburn Lane towards Green Park, which was not so crowded as Hyde Park and had some pleasant paths and little copses of trees. ‘Have you decided to take up Lady Bonhaven’s offer?’ he asked her, as they walked.
‘Not yet. I am expected to visit her tomorrow with Aunt Jessica, but I wish there were an alternative. Her ladyship is known as a difficult employer. I have discovered from Janet that she has had three companions in as many years. I am unlikely to please her for long.’
‘Far be it from me to shirk my duty to my sister and I would see you settled. If you cannot bear to accept her ladyship’s offer, you may live with Charlotte and me, but I cannot afford more than a little pin money.’
‘I know,’ she said, wondering how much his suit and wig had cost. And the mourning gown Charlotte had been wearing when she last saw her had at least fifteen yards of silk in it and was heavily embroidered with mother-of-pearl. He did not stint on their wardrobes.
‘Would you marry if you could?’ he asked.
‘Now you are being silly.’
They entered the park and were strolling along the path which led to The Mall, when they met two gentlemen walking towards them. One was rugged looking in a dark blue coat and white small clothes, the other, clearly a fop, was in a suit of peach-and-cream satin, a peach brocade waistcoat and cream small clothes. Rosamund would have passed them, but they were evidently known to Max, because he stopped and swept them an elegant bow. ‘Gentlemen, your obedient. May I present my sister, Miss Rosamund Chalmers. Rosie, this is Lord Portman and Sir Ashley Saunders.’ He indicated each in turn.
They swept off their hats and bowed to her. ‘Madam, your obedient.’
She curtsied. ‘Gentlemen.’
‘May I offer condolences on your bereavement?’ Ash said.
‘Thank you.’
‘We are out for a stroll,’ Max said. ‘Shall we walk together?’
The two turned and Ash contrived to skip around so that she was walking between him and Harry.
Harry had made up his mind not to indulge Ash, but his friend had turned up on his doorstep and persuaded him that no harm could come from a short perambulation and a surreptitious peep at the lady. ‘You must be a little curious as to why her brother feels it necessary to sell her off like a horse,’ he had said.
‘Perhaps she looks like one.’
‘Well, shall we go and see?’
Harry took the opportunity while she chatted to Ash to study the young lady and came to the conclusion her brother had done her an injustice. Her unmade-up face was very pale and she was no beauty in the accepted sense, but she was far from plain; she had good bone structure, high cheeks and a determined chin. Her hair was a light brown and twisted up into a knot beneath her hat, but a few stray curls sat upon her forehead and two ringlets fell over her ears. He could not, walking beside her as he was, see her eyes and mouth, and for some reason he could not explain, he wished he could.
‘I believe you looked after your father before he died,’ he said.
She turned towards him to answer and he was faced with grey eyes beneath winged brows, which clearly told of sorrow and worry, but behind that was a hint of humour and determination. He wondered how he had managed to read so much in a pair of eyes, but he knew he was right. And there was a slight upward tilt to her mouth. How much would it take to make her laugh? he wondered.
‘Yes, my mother died over seven years ago.’
‘My condolences.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You have never married?’
‘No.’ Her answer was clipped.
‘And now you are alone?’
‘I have Max.’
‘Yes, indeed. I understand he has a wife and family.’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you make your home with them?’
He saw the slight shudder of her shoulders, which told him more than words that she did not view the prospect with any pleasure. ‘It is one possibility. I have yet to decide.’
‘There are others?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Then I wish you well.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My sister is considering a post as a lady’s companion,’ Max put in, making Rosamund give him a furious look. He appeared oblivious to it and went on, ‘But I am not sure it would suit her.’
‘I am sure it would not,’ Harry murmured.
‘It is not too late for her to marry,’ Max continued. ‘But being in mourning, she cannot go to balls and routs and places where she might meet eligible gentlemen, so we are at an impasse.’
‘Max!’ Rosamund rounded on him. ‘I am sure his lordship and Sir Ashley are not interested in my problems.’
‘On the contrary,’ Ash said. ‘I, for one, am interested. It seems to me that it is a very unjust world that condemns women to a life of dependence and when that dependence is withdrawn, to find themselves in sorry straits. I marvel at their fortitude and resilience to make what they can of their circumstances. Miss Chalmers, you have my sympathy. Do you not say so, Harry?’
Harry was as furious with Ash as Rosamund was with Max, but he could only answer politely. ‘Indeed, yes.’
Rosamund opened her mouth to make a sharp retort and shut it again. She began to walk very fast, head up and shoulders back and hoped that would be enough to show them how displeased she was. She was convinced that her brother had brought her out on purpose to meet these two: the rugged naval type with the easy manner and the exquisite popinjay who seemed to be able to keep up with her in spite of his high heels.
Sir Ashley was a pleasant gentleman, but he seemed to be in collusion with her brother, but what of Lord Portman? His vanity was palpable. It was plain he spent a great deal of money with his tailor, his wigmaker and his shoemaker and he seemed to be well known for, even in Green Park, he bowed frequently to others out for a stroll. He could hardly enjoy being seen in company with her, and yet he had not fallen behind as Ash and Max had done.
‘Have you done quizzing me, my lord?’ she asked.
‘Lud! I have not meant to quiz you, ma’am. I have simply been making polite