Martha Schroeder Read online

  “And why is that, my lady?” James looked down at her. He could not for the life of him understand exactly why this confession was so difficult. She seemed to attach enormous importance to such an absurd triviality. She was titled, pretty, charming, and accomplished. She had done things no earl’s daughter in London had dreamed of. Had any of them assisted at a cow’s accouchement? “Unless things have changed since I retired, they waltz very infrequently at the Admiralty. Not since Trafalgar, I believe.”

  He hoped she would laugh.

  She didn’t. Instead, she turned aside and stood with her back to him. “You do not understand. I have never had any sort of social training. Not the kind one would expect. I don’t know how to entertain cabinet ministers or converse easily. The people hereabouts make allowances for me, but your friends would think me hopelessly rustic.”

  “Because you cannot waltz? Nothing could be simpler. I’ll teach you, Just listen to the music and follow me.” From inside the house, the strains of the lilting melody drifted out to them. James bowed and then extended his hand. “Here, you see. I put my hand in the middle of your back, like this. And you put yours on my shoulder, so. Then we clasp our other hands and ...” Holding her closer than strict propriety would have allowed, he began to move to the music.

  Meg moved stiffly at first and almost stumbled, but then James could feel her relax and begin to follow his steps. After a moment she looked up at him and gave him a smile that was bright with all the life and charm that had won his—not his heart, surely. He hadn’t gone and fallen in love with her, had he? The thought terrified him. No, of course he hadn’t. Admiration, that was what he felt. She had won his admiration.

  The dance lasted only a few minutes more, but James was aware of Meg’s every breath. He couldn’t help it. When at last he whirled her around to finish with a flourish, Meg looked as if she’d been flying. Her golden brown curls were slightly tumbled and her face glowed.

  “Oh, James,” she said breathlessly, “thank you. I had no idea dancing could be like that!”

  “What was it like?” he asked, still bemused by her smile, the feel of her in his arms.

  “Like flying! It was wonderful. When can we do it again?”

  He looked down at her, still flushed and slightly tousled. Almost, he thought, as if they had just made love. He gathered his scattered senses. “Anytime you can convince Miss Fairchild to play for us. We can waltz tomorrow morning, if you like!”

  “Oh, James, I am going to enjoy being married to you!” In the silence that followed her remark, Meg could hear a gasp from behind her.

  “Oh, Margaret, you mustn’t!” Mrs. Headley burst out.

  Meg looked stricken. “That was very forward of me. I am sorry, James. Just when I think I’ve learned how to go on, something like that just pops out of my mouth.”

  “I don’t think it was what you said that upset our hostess.” James’s words fell like stones. “I believe it is the identity of your bridegroom that causes her such distress.” He stood looking like an archangel—tall and bright—but his eyes were bleak, and his sharply sculpted mouth was tight.

  “Indeed, you are right, Captain Sheridan,” Mrs. Headley replied. “I will not prevaricate when the matter is so important. Margaret, I beg of you, reconsider this folly. I feel almost as if I stood in place of your mother and—”

  “You do not stand in any such relation to me, Mrs. Headley,” Meg interrupted ruthlessly. “And I have no need to think further about anything. It is decided.” Head high, she marched back into the ballroom.

  The musicians had stopped playing, and the dancers were grouped casually, chatting and laughing. Meg went to stand in front of the chairs and music stands and said in clear and carrying tones, “I have an announcement to make. Please, may I have your attention!”

  Sensing something out of the ordinary, everyone fell silent. Meg smiled at the group and said, “I know that this is quite unconventional, but I wish to announce my engagement. If I had a close male relative, I would ask him to do so, but unfortunately I have none. So, I have decided to acquire one. Cap-lain James Sheridan and I are engaged to be married.” She beckoned James forward and stood with him close beside her, holding his hand. “I hope you all will wish us happy.”

  There was a murmur of surprise, and then Gerald, as quick-witted and kind as his mother had been earlier, stepped forward, a glass of champagne in his hand. “I wish to make the first toast to the engaged—”

  But Mrs. Headley had not yet run her course. “Meg, please. You do not even know who this man’s people are. Who is his mother? What is her family? That is a matter of grave importance. You know nothing about her. She could be anyone!”

  “She gave birth to a hero,” Meg said. “That is enough fame and virtue for any woman! I only hope I can do as much!”

  “Well, really—” Mrs. Headley’s face flushed an unbecoming mottled shade of red. “Of all the unmaidenly remarks!”

  James had had enough of standing silent while a woman defended him. “It is very difficult to shock a naval commander,” he said smoothly. “Lady Margaret has yet to manage it. So you can see how perfectly suited we are!”

  He grinned down at Meg and read the admiration and laughter in her piquant features. “I believe Sir Gerald was about to propose a toast in your honor when we were interrupted, my dear. Sir Gerald?”

  Gerald proved he was indeed a diplomat. He raised his glass again, as coolly as if nothing had disturbed his words. “To my two very good friends. May they live long and always surprise each other.”

  Amid good-natured laughter, the toast was drunk and Meg and the captain began to circulate around the room, receiving congratulations and good wishes. James felt an unfamiliar sense of happiness. Was it possible? Could it really be that easy to become a part of life here? The Mattinglys and Margaret had chosen to embrace him, and the entire community seemed ready to follow suit.

  Of course, Mrs. Headley was still unreconciled to his new place in the midst of her circle, but, a true navy man, James had no wish for a life without enemies. After all, it was Napoleon’s final exile that had decided him in favor of retirement.

  Mrs. Headley could do her worst, James thought, his hand at Meg’s waist as laughter and good wishes swirled around him. No country society matron could equal the French ships at Trafalgar! He had withstood that at the ripe old age of sixteen— what did he have to fear now?

  Chapter Eleven

  Two days later Meg stood waiting with ill-concealed impatience for Josiah Quigley, her solicitor and man-of-business, to arrive. She tapped her toe and smoothed the skirt of her simple brown morning dress. Mr. Quigley always insisted on staying at the coaching inn instead of at Hedgemere. He had sent a message that he would wait upon Lady Margaret at eleven o’clock.

  It was three minutes past, and he had not yet arrived.

  Meg was, as usual, unwilling to wait to get everything settled, arranged, done with. Ever since she and James had announced their intentions to the entire neighborhood at the Headleys’ dance, Meg had wanted everything to happen immediately. Unfortunately, others did not share her desire to rush through life pell-mell. Annis and Gerald—even James— had smiled tolerantly and proceeded to take their time.

  Meg found their attitude intolerable.

  She had loved setting her neighbors agog by announcing her own engagement, instead of asking some male to do it. Everyone had been staring by the time she finished. To do them credit, they had rallied quickly, and despite the fact that Mrs. Headley had raised such an uproar, they all congratulated the captain and wished Meg happiness with every evidence of sincerity.

  Meg had been happy to bask in their approval. He had said nothing, but she could tell by his very silence how much James had appreciated the ready acceptance of his new neighbors. Though she never minded being criticized for doing what she thought was right, Meg hadn’t wanted her choice of husband to be so unpopular that she would risk their standing in the community.

&
nbsp; But Captain Sheridan had been appraised by those who had met him for themselves. They hadn’t paid too much attention to Eunice Headley. The very high sticklers had frowned, of course, at the idea of his irregular birth, but they did nothing so gothic as to snub the affianced husband of Lady Margaret Enfield, their neighbor since birth.

  Oddly, it was Lady Mattingly who had seemed unsure. She had taken Meg aside after all the hubbub had died down, and, with her forehead creased in uncharacteristic worry, had murmured, “I am happy for you, Meg, dear, if you are happy. And I hate the kind of gossip that Eunice engages in as much as you do. But you mustn’t allow your sense of injustice to make you leap before you have looked. The captain is a fine man, and I would be more than happy to have him stay on with us while you become a little better acquainted.”

  “Do you want to give me time to cry off?” Meg gave her neighbor a straight look.

  “I want you to take enough time to know your own heart, my dear.”

  “The matter is decided. I have made up my mind. It will be a good marriage for both of us. We are sure of it.”

  “You sound as if you have made up your mind but not as if you have given it a great deal of thought. Think long and hard, my dear. Marriages last for a very long time, and you are still young.” Lady Mattingly smiled at Meg and took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am not trying to influence you in any way; I just want you to be sure that this is what you need in your life.”

  Standing now, staring into the library fire, Meg remembered Lady Mattingly’s words with a frown. Of course she knew that for a time Gerald’s mother had hoped for a match between them, but that hope had faded years ago. Why, then, should she not approve wholeheartedly of Meg’s marriage to a fine man like Captain Sheridan?

  Love? Why had Lady Mattingly mentioned love? Meg frowned. She admired the captain and liked him. She was prepared, she was sure, for what would transpire between them in the bedchamber. After all, she had known all her life exactly how baby animals were made. Was there more to it than that? Not that she had ever heard.

  Meg’s mother had died when she was very young, and except for Annis, she had not known any woman well enough to ask about what she could expect from marriage. And Annis, not surprisingly, knew even less than Meg. Considering that every woman was expected to marry and bear children, Meg thought, they were told precious little about any but the social aspects of that estate.

  Well, love and lovemaking would have to remain a mystery for a while longer. Ladylike swoons and spasms were not her style, and she was not going to let the idea of marriage get the better of her. She had always ridden at a gallop toward life’s challenges, daring them to defeat her. She would not treat marriage to Captain James Sheridan any differently from running an estate without money. Everything could be coped with if you refused to entertain the idea of failure.

  Meg raised her chin, ready to do battle.

  Meadows entered and announced Mr. Quigley, a plump little man, his sober coat stretched over a round stomach. His white hair grew in wisps around his head. He bent over her hand and then lifted his head and peered at her through his spectacles.

  “You are looking well, Lady Margaret. I have brought all the papers that pertain to your father’s estate, and those setting out Hedgemere’s income through the years.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Quigley. I wanted to go over everything with you before you spoke to Captain Sheridan.”

  Mr. Quigley’s expression grew troubled. Meg had long noted that when something disturbed him, Mr. Quigley looked very like an unhappy baby. His mouth turned down, and his round, pink face puckered. She saw the signs now.

  “I have received some very troubling reports about Captain Sheridan,” he said, shaking his head.

  “He has discussed his... irregular birth with me,” Meg said, finding it much more difficult to talk about it to her solicitor than to James himself.

  “Oh.” Mr. Quigley stared. He was clearly uncomfortable with the subject, but his concern for his client drove him to pursue it. “And you still wish to marry him, my lady?”

  “Yes. It is why I have summoned you.” Meg’s tone was astringent. She respected Mr. Quigley and valued his advice, but she did not wish to lend any credence to the gossip about the captain’s ineligibility.

  “Lady Margaret, the captain’s relationship with members of his father’s family are—not what they might be. I would like your permission to inquire into them more fully.”

  “Come and sit down, Mr. Quigley.” Meg indicated a tapestry-covered chair facing her desk. She sat down behind the large mahogany desk and inclined her head. “Now tell me what disturbs you. I am aware that he has not been in touch with his father’s family for quite a while—a fact that does not disturb me. As you know, I do not remember my mother, and my father was not a presence in my life.” While literally true, the late earl’s absence, his ceaseless demands for money and disregard of any claims his daughter might have on his time or affections had dominated her life.

  Mr. Quigley leaned forward. “Lady Margaret, the captain’s, er, father died several years ago. Reginald Devereaux, the new Duke of Kettering, has written to me, warning me that any further inquiries into the history of one Captain James Sheridan and linking his name with mat of Kettering will bring a suit for slander against me.”

  “Good heavens, Mr. Quigley, what did you do to rouse such wrath?”

  “Nothing at all untoward, my lady, I assure you. As you requested, I made some very cursory inquiries of the bank and the captain’s solicitor, both of whom you named in your letter. That was all. And they both spoke of the captain in the most glowing terms. He is indeed a wealthy man, thanks to the many French ships he captured with cargo from their colonies in the West Indies and to some extremely shrewd investments.”

  “Then I do not understand. What possible objection could the duke have to such a request? How did he know anything about it?” Meg found herself concerned for the captain. It would not do him any good to have made an implacable enemy of his half-brother. “So far as I know, Captain Sheridan has had no dealings with anyone in the duke’s family for many years.”

  “I do not know what so exercised the duke or how he came by his information. But I confess I am concerned. The tone of the duke’s letter was very angry. I would not want my actions to cause you or the captain any difficulty.” The little man’s concern for her was evident. Meg smiled at him.

  “I cannot believe that anything difficult will come of your inquiries. After all, we have no intention of bothering the duke or even visiting London for the Season. He can perfectly well continue to ignore his half-brother and now his wife.”

  “I hope you are right, my lady. Kettering is very powerful in political circles. His enmity can be costly.”

  “I’m sure you are right, Mr. Quigley. But as I said, we have no interest in traveling in those circles. I feel sure that the duke will calm down after he hears nothing from us or about us.” She smiled reassuringly at her worried solicitor. But Mr. Quigley did not look reassured. Of course, solicitors were paid to worry about things no ordinary mortal gave a thought to. “Did you hear anything else about Captain Sheridan?”

  “Nothing that was anything less than complimentary,” he replied. “Nothing that need concern you.”

  She laughed. “I am not a solicitor, Mr. Quigley. I am much more interested in the nice things people had to say about the captain than in the things you think should concern me!”

  “Yes, well, as to the captain’s reputation, my lady, those whom I knew at the Admiralty were very warm in their praise of his service. A brave and resourceful commander, they said. One trusted by his superiors and loved by those who served under him.”

  Hearing the captain praised so heartily made Meg’s heart swell with pleasure. When she realized she was hanging on Mr. Quigley’s every word, she shook her head. What was the matter with her? She was as proud of James Sheridan as if she were some silly girl who had fallen in love w
ith a war hero!

  “And his fellow officers thought well of him, too, though they found him a bit closemouthed. Never talked too much of his family or friends.”

  “How did you manage to find all this out in such a short time, Mr. Quigley?” Meg asked in admiration.

  “I should like to know that as well,” said an angry voice from the doorway. “Good morning, Lady Margaret.” The captain’s face wore a mask of icy fury. “Pray tell me, have you engaged a runner to find out about my disreputable past? Or was it concern for me that led you to investigate my life behind my back, rather than ask me about it?”

  For a moment Meg was speechless before the captain’s rage. He remained perfectly in control of himself, but there was no doubt as to the depth of his anger. Then she rallied. She had done nothing underhanded.

  “I do not believe it is unheard of for a family to inquire into the life and prospects of a young man who wishes to marry one of their daughters. In fact, you must have thought the same when you gave me the names of your banker and your solicitor. I do not have a relation to do that for me, so I asked Mr. Quigley, my solicitor, who has always proved trustworthy and discreet, to ask those questions for me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “In fact, I wished to make Mr. Quigley known to you. That is why I invited you to come here this morning. I have invited him to lunch with us.”

  “Really?” James drawled, disbelief dripping from the word.

  “Really.” Meg would not look away or back down. “As a matter of fact, it is probably a very good thing that you were not here. You would have heard a great deal of praise—enough to give you a marvelous conceit of yourself.”

  James gazed deep into her eyes and saw nothing but truth there. He realized that despite his instinctive anger at anyone who probed into his personal life, he knew she did not lie. The truth seemed always to shine in her eyes, as it did now. He felt the tightness in his chest relax. He had not been betrayed. The person asking about him had been doing so for Meg. Meg who, he knew at some deep, instinctual level, would never betray him.