Page 32

‘And do you have such a waistcoat?’

‘I do.’ He glanced across at her, his eyebrows showing his amusement.

‘And do you wear it?’

‘Not in polite company.’

‘So, I’m unlikely to see you in it.’ She could not keep the mischief out of her voice.

‘That’s true.’

‘Unless I joined the Four-in-Hand Club too?’

‘I’m afraid your sex precludes that.’

He drove on in silence and, as they approached the mêlée of carriages and people at Cumberland Gate, slowed his greys to a walk. His horses always drew much attention. His spanking smart equipages were well-known, as was their owner’s reputation for his wealth, discretion and apparent supremacy in most things. There were stories of how no one had ever got the better of him in sport, influence or argument except, it was whispered, Lord Rockliffe, in some unrevealed and deadly rivalry. The fact Mr Brabazon was seen today in the company of a rather dashing young woman with an angelic child in tow added spice to the gossip that attended his name.

The throng parted to let his greys and curricle through, and he drove his horses into Park Lane and headed south towards Green Street. Anthony Brabazon half turned in his seat to address Sybella. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask your advice about my land that runs alongside yours. There’s a method of crop rotation pioneered by the Hollanders. I thought to follow their example and introduce flax, turnips and wheat. What do you think of clover to further improve the soil?’ Sybella was taken aback and looked at him questioningly as he continued, ‘Would you and George like to consider doing the same? If so, we can share our horses and machinery and some labour too.’

He was looking at her intently and she wondered why this change of heart. For as long as she could remember, his estates had lain pretty much fallow. ‘I like the idea.’ She was thoughtful and spoke carefully. ‘To have your land productive would make managing mine so much easier. As you can imagine, tares, thistles and briars know no boundary.’ Then an idea occurred to her that brightened her face. ‘But what all the farmers in the neighbourhood need is a grist-mill. If we can grind our flour in the area and not have to transport our grain to Newbury, that would help so many.’

‘It’s quite ambitious. And a great outlay of capital.’

‘Mr Brabazon, you puzzle me. Why this interest now in your estate?’

He had pulled his greys up outside Lady Godley’s house but seemed reluctant to end the conversation. ‘My father gambled away what he could of his fortune and spent the rest on his bloodstock and other fancies. I was fast following the same course, but this war has made me reconsider. I have responsibilities to the land that men like Captain Fortescue and your husband fight to defend. By a quirk of birth, I have inherited a substantial portion of it. I would be negligent not to restore it to productivity.’ Anthony Brabazon’s drawling manner of speech was still suggestive of aristocratic ennui, but the words implied a far more impassioned call to action. A further thought made him smile ironically. ‘It would break the pattern of generations if I could bequeath an improved estate to my descendants.’ He handed Sybella down and helped James to jump from the curricle to the ground.

‘Do you have descendants, Mr Brabazon?’ she asked sweetly, looking up into his face.

He took her hand in farewell and murmured, ‘Not that I know of. Not yet, at least.’ He swung himself back into the driving seat with John still at his horses’ heads then turned and added, ‘I’m going to the Hall next week to see about some improvements. But I’ve promised Freddie I’ll go with him to Almack’s first. Perhaps you and your sister might be there, after Lady Sefton was so impressed by last night’s entertainment?’ Mr Brabazon doffed his hat to her, grasped the reins and nodded to his groom. ‘Spring ’em, John!’

6

THE SISTERS ALIGHT AT ALMACK’S

Sybella arrived home to the sound of laughter. She led James into the kitchen so Nurse could give him supper and then mounted the stairs to the drawing room. There she found Lucie rummaging in a desk drawer, looking for a pack of cards, while Lord Ravenell lounged on the sofa by the window. Lord Lynwood’s elegant form leaned against the mantelpiece, his dark curls tempestuously disordered as if just buffeted in a high wind. Even his usually immaculate cravat was a trifle limp and askew.

Both young men came to greet her and Lord Ravenell took her hand, the sparkle in his blue eyes all the more noticeable against his haggard pallor. ‘I have to thank you, Mrs Lovatt, for such a bang-up rout last night. The unexpected pairings, the scandals!’ He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, laughing. ‘Fortunately, my papa, who still thinks I’m as green as your scampish son, was too busy coquetting with you to brood over me.’

Lord Lynwood laughed. ‘Oh, Val, stop being such a rattle-pate. All the proprieties were observed. In fact, the only irregular was Lord Rockliffe, as is his way. And your papa! He may be a model of rectitude now but in his day, scandal was his shadow, so he can’t really crack the whip over you.’ His face turned serious. ‘He only wants to protect you, you know. As do we all. And what a hard business you make it!’

Sybella broke in on this with some exasperation. ‘All the proprieties were observed last night but not, it seems, this morning. Lucie, where is your godmama, or Alice? You shouldn’t be entertaining young men without a chaperone, you know.’

‘Oh, Bella, these are my friends. It’s all such fustian. Why is being a lady such a bore? I didn’t have a chaperone when I was playing piquet with Freddie in the country.’

‘Well, you should have. I was just too busy to sit around watching you both fooling.’

Lord Lynwood interrupted, ‘Wait a minute, Lucie, you weren’t playing piquet, more like muffing it and I was just being a polite guest, indulging you.’

Sybella turned towards the door, saying over her shoulder, ‘I’ll see if Lady Godley can oblige you.’ Then she added sternly, ‘I’m afraid in this society, such things do matter, Lucie.’

‘Yes, Sister. Until I’m married – and then I can do what I like!’ she said provokingly to Sybella’s retreating back.

Valentine Ravenell was sitting on the sofa with Lucie and nudged her reprovingly. He looked up at his friend, with a thoughtful expression in his eyes. ‘Freddie, I’m not the only one with an over-protective parent. You’re just as impatient with your guardian’s constraints.’

‘Ah, but with him, it’s duty, not love.’

‘How do you know that? You’re an irksome cove to deal with but he hasn’t yet walked away.’