Page 48

‘Thanks to his frustrations, we have this great convenience.’ She surveyed the river from the vantage point nearly halfway across.

Mr Brabazon pointed to the further bank. ‘We’re soon onto the Upper Richmond Road and it won’t be long. I thought we might stop for some refreshment at the White Hart. To water the horses and fortify ourselves.’

After a couple more miles, they brought their horses into the forecourt of a pretty little inn, newly painted, with chickens scratching round the flower bed and an old rose clambering up the front wall. Gem sprang down from his horse to take Scipio’s bridle and Mr Brabazon handed him Hades’s reins, walking round to help Sybella dismount. She decorously disengaged her left foot from the stirrup and, lifting her right leg from the side pommel, slipped down Scipio’s side to be caught by his hands that clamped firmly round her waist and swung her to the ground. The pressure of his touch was fleeting but it set off a flutter in her breath that she could not fathom.

They were just about to enter the inn when a very smart chaise with a crest on the door, pulled by four flashy greys, clattered to a halt. The liveried postilions sprang off the off-side horses and took the team’s heads. Sybella looked on in some surprise as Mr Brabazon, cursing softly under his breath, strolled up to the window to talk to the passenger inside. The blind on the window was drawn up and an elegantly gloved hand emerged to be kissed. A large diamond glinted in the sun. Sybella knew to whom that hand and that jewel belonged. She watched Mr Brabazon’s face in profile. It was impassive as he said a few words then inclined his head to listen to the reply, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. He saluted and the chaise drew away. Sybella just caught a glimpse of a woman’s face, only her dark eyes visible before the blind was dropped again.

‘My apologies for keeping you waiting.’ Mr Brabazon gave Sybella his arm to conduct her into the inn. She looked up at him, her eyebrow raised in a query. Nothing ever seemed to much discomfort him, but he appeared unsettled by this meeting. ‘Politeness required me to greet the lady. A friend I have known for a long time,’ he said, imparting as little information as he could.

‘Surely it’s rather reckless travelling with your jewellery on show like that?’ Sybella said demurely as they entered the gloom of the private room set aside for the gentry.

‘That lady’s nothing if not reckless,’ was his laconic response, but his coolly controlled manner did not entirely hide his uncharacteristic loss of equilibrium.

With a small shrug, he appeared to cast any disquiet aside and turned to her. ‘Now for refreshment. What would you like, Mrs Lovatt? I’ve sent some ale through to Gem and ordered a tankard for myself. What can I get you, Chocolate, tea? Or ratafia?’

Sybella settled into the corner seat by the window and the barman, who seemed on familiar terms with Mr Brabazon, carried in the tray himself, laden with glasses of ale and ratafia and a plate of macaroons. ‘It is so good to get out of London. Thank you for suggesting this, Mr Brabazon.’

‘Are you not enjoying life in Town?’ He sat down opposite her and crossed his legs.

‘I think I find it unsettling not to be in control of events, as I am at home.’

‘I can assure you that when I was last at the Manor all was thriving. Your estate management puts my poor land to shame.’ Sybella looked at him with surprise. She thought his pride did not allow him to admit any shortcomings.

‘I find nature can be very forgiving and you’ll turn yours around in a few seasons, I’m sure.’ She realised just how hungry she was after rather an early breakfast and helped herself to a macaroon.

‘You haven’t really answered my question about your enjoyment of Town life.’ He was watching her face closely.

‘Well, so much is new and interesting. And the main point of this visit was to give Lucie a Season and that seems to be going well. She’s happy at least.’

‘But you are not?’

She felt slightly uncomfortable at such scrutiny. ‘Since our mother’s death, my sister has been my care. Love and responsibility can be burdensome.’

He smiled ruefully and leant back in his chair. ‘Freddie Lynwood too is an orphan and is not lucky enough to have an elder sister like you. Sadly for him, he has me instead. It is burdensome. For us both.’

‘What most concerns you about him?’

‘He’s a young man with a sound heart and many good points but he lives such a harum-scarum life. He games high and drinks too deep, some of his friends are real rattles. I fear for his safety, and for his fortune.’

‘Freddie told Lucie that he considers it unfair that you ring such a fine peal over him, as his behaviour is no worse than yours. Except you are more discreet.’

Mr Brabazon’s eyebrows shot up and the look he gave Sybella was cold and hard. ‘I can assure you my behaviour is nothing like dear Freddie’s. And he might learn from my discretion.’

Sybella was uncowed. ‘Perhaps it might work better to scold him less? I have always found him a delightful young man, charming and witty and kind to widows, old ladies and tiresome tots.’ She laughed.

‘He might be less charming and witty when his fortune runs out,’ Mr Brabazon drawled, draining his tankard of ale. ‘Conserving his inheritance against his worst instincts has been my primary goal.’ He passed Sybella the plate of macaroons and she absentmindedly took a second one and began nibbling the sweet crust.

‘Wealth isn’t everything, Mr Brabazon,’ she said reflectively.

His lazy amused gaze suddenly became intent. ‘I’m afraid it betrays your romantic sensibilities and, dare I say, naivety to think so. Contrary to what you like to believe, wealth is everything. It makes anything possible and the lack of it defeats hope and ingenuity.’

His lofty tone seemed to brook no disagreement and Sybella bridled at his condescension. ‘That means that Lucie’s condition is already hopeless.’ She returned his fixed gaze.

‘Come, come, Mrs Lovatt, you must know that young women with breeding and great good looks have a certain currency. Why else is she here for the Season?’ His lip curled in a semblance of a sneer.

Sybella flushed with irritation. ‘You make it sound so mercenary!’

‘Almack’s is not called the Marriage Mart for nothing. I wish, like you, alliances between our great families were more to do with sensibility and the higher offices of the heart, but I fear they are as mercantile as any transaction in a merchant’s warehouse.’