The Earl, the Vow, and the Plain Jane Read online

  Since the others were not near, she said, "I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you tomorrow, my lord."

  "Then I beg that you'll allow me to collect you for a walk in the park."

  It was then that she realized he no longer possessed a carriage. Two days ago he'd been riding a horse. Tomorrow he'd walk. "Very well, my lord."

  ***

  Miss Jane Featherstone felt like an imposter as she strolled beside Lord Slade. She was not a Pretty Young Thing with whom men-- except for Mr. Poppinbotham--chose to drive or walk through Hyde Park. Never in her one and twenty years had a man so honored her. And it wasn't as if his lordship had singled her out for particular attentions. Her lovely cousin should be sitting in her place.

  But if Jane's plan was successful, the ton would soon know that it was only a matter of time before Lady Sarah would become Lady Slade.

  How very, very fortunate Lady Sarah was, Jane thought, trying to suppress bitterness over her own absence of attractions.

  She felt small walking beside this tower of a man. Small and utterly feminine. That's how unquestionably masculine Lord Slade was.

  They were deep into the park and had exchanged all the usual pleasantries before he asked her why she had desired a private word with him.

  ***

  He had dreaded this meeting with Miss Featherstone. Ever since the night of the ball, he'd been unable to purge his feelings of shame. Miss Featherstone understandably would think him a fortune hunter, and for some reason it bothered him that he'd sunk so low in Miss Featherstone's esteem. Even though it was done all the time, there was nothing admirable in a man who wed for riches.

  She had calculated to bring up her private conversation when no others were nearby.

  "I have been thinking of the request you made of me the night of the debutantes' ball," she began. His glance flicked to her serious profile. In the daylight the freckles dusting her perfect nose were much more visible than they were at night. She looked more like the girl he'd remembered so fondly than the young woman she'd become.

  He frowned. "Must you bring up something which shames me?"

  "My dear Lord Slade, you have no reason to be ashamed. You cannot have failed to notice no less than a dozen men have been dancing attendance upon my cousin. And why should they not? She's beautiful, she comes from one of the best families, and she happens to be a considerable heiress."

  She was no longer angry with him for scheming to marry an heiress? He straightened, took his eyes off the lane, and stared at Miss Featherstone. "From your actions the other night, it was apparent that you found my interest in Lady Sarah to be. . .mercenary."

  "Then I must ask your forgiveness."

  "It's I who should be asking for your forgiveness. We both know my interest in your cousin was prompted for reasons that were not the most noble."

  Her face whipped to within inches from his. Her mossy green eyes held his. "How can you say it's not noble to want to save a castle that's been in your family since the Conquest? Or that it's not noble to wish to dower your young sisters?"

  He abruptly stopped and faced her. "How do you know these things?"

  "Your brother did me the kindness of escorting me to dinner after you left Lord Spencer's the other night, and thinking that you and I were on some terms of intimacy, he told me of the Vow."

  He sucked in his breath. Neither he nor she spoke for a moment, then she finally said, "I have always admired you, my lord, and I believe of all the men in London you would make the finest husband for my dear cousin."

  They came abreast of a passing phaeton and nodded to the passengers. "I am not worthy of your confidence."

  "You are a truthful man, are you not?"

  "Of course!"

  "Then I don't believe you would express feelings of affection toward Lady Sarah unless you were telling the truth. Am I not right?"

  "You are right."

  "Therefore, I have decided to see that you have the opportunity to win her affections—but only if you give me your word that you will never lie to her."

  "You know I would never tell a falsehood."

  "That means that the only way you will offer for her hand is after you can truthfully tell her she owns your heart."

  Love had never entered into his calculations, never been part of his plan. An heir often did not have the right to actually marry for love. An heir had a duty.

  How could he possibly know if he could fall in love with the heiress? There was the fact she was lovely. Very lovely. As he thought about what Miss Featherstone said, he realized she had not told him not to offer for Lady Sarah, but just not to offer for the lady until such time he could truthfully tell her he loved her.

  Surely he could fall in love with the lady.

  While he'd never thought to marry for love, he had always thought that once he was married, he would fall in love with the woman who shared his life and bore his children. And, of course, he would never be unfaithful to the woman with whom he'd been joined to in matrimony.

  "So, if I give you my word I would not offer for her until I can offer my love, you will help me woo her?"

  "I will."

  How would he ever be able to thank Miss Featherstone? Instead of making him feel like a fortune hunter, she tried to make him feel noble. He turned and offered her a smile. "I cannot tell you how honored I am that you have found me admirable. May I ask why?"

  "Was it not you who said last night that you want to be remembered for any good deeds you may have done for your fellow man?"

  His head inclined, he shrugged.

  "I have observed your actions in Parliament since the day you stepped on the floor of the House of Commons." Her voice softened. "I know you're an honorable man."

  He kept his eyes ahead. They were approaching Rotten Row, where dozens of conveyances trailed one another. "I thank you."

  "Do not hitch all your dreams to the scheme, my lord. It's possible my cousin will favor another of her many suitors over you."

  "I am well aware of that."

  "Be assured I will sing your praises."

  "I am destitute of words to express my gratitude."

  She gave him a warm smile. "Now, we must decide on a plan."

  Chapter 5

  “What a lovely surprise seeing you here this morning,” Lady Sarah said as she turned away from her dressing table and studied Cousin Jane.

  Miss Featherstone was incapable of removing her gaze from the perfection of Lady Sarah. This morning her beautiful cousin wore a simple dress of sprigged muslin, its tiny flowers matching the blue in her eyes. Her maid had just finished dressing her fashionably short, silky blonde hair. No picture in Ackermann’s Repository had ever been able to capture a young woman even half as elegant as Lady Sarah.

  “I presume the loveliest debutante in all of England is readying to present herself before a bevy of admirers paying a morning call.”

  “You are, as always, so exceedingly perceptive, Jane. Please say you will join me.”

  “That’s precisely why I’ve come. What better place to find a room full of eligible men? Not that any of them would ever look at me when you’re such a feast for the eyes.”

  Lady Sarah sighed. “I never thought I’d say this, but it gets terribly tedious being the object of young men’s devotion.”

  “I can see that the proliferation of posies, the perpetual paying of compliments, and the odes written on your beauty could indeed get very tiresome, very fast.”

  “Perhaps you can latch on to one of my castoffs.” Realizing she had just all but insulted her cousin, Lady Sarah leapt toward Jane, holding out her hands. “Pray, forgive me, my dearest cousin. It was most uncharitable of me to say such a thing.”

  “I’ve told you countless times to never apologize for saying something which is true.”

  “You are too dear.” Sarah took a last glance in the mirror and started for the door. “One of my suitors, Mr. Mannington, told me at the Vanes' ball last night that he saw you in the park w
ith Lord Slade yesterday afternoon. I must own, I was surprised.”

  “He’s very far above my touch, but we are friends of long standing. He came to dinner at our house the previous night and dazzled everyone at the table with his brilliance.”

  They left the lady's bedchamber and began descending the majestic staircase of Clegg House. “It’s a most fortunate young woman who wins Lord Slade’s hand in marriage,” Miss Featherstone continued, “for he is possessed of so many admirable qualities. There are his good looks and his position in the House of Lords, and his deep affection for his siblings.”

  Lady Sarah giggled. “You, my dear cousin, have just described half the men who will be calling on me today!”

  In the Earl of Clegg’s drawing room, every seat was filled with young men, most of whom were bearing flowers for the earl’s lovely daughter. All of them stood when the two young ladies entered the large chamber furnished in dark mahoganies and emerald silk and adorned with paintings by Italian masters as well as a Gainsborough of the present Lady Clegg as a younger woman with lightly powdered hair.

  Presently, that lady, whose hair was now lightly gray without artificial help, sat on a settee in the center of the chamber, smugly satisfied over her daughter's spectacular success.

  But it was not that lady who drew Miss Featherstone's attention. Her glance whisked first to Lord Slade. She had known she would find him in the gathering of morning callers, but she was surprised to see that he had come with his brother.

  Those two gentlemen quickly offered their chairs to the female cousins.

  Seated, Miss Featherstone surveyed the almost all-male gathering. She counted three and twenty young men.

  And she realized Lady Sarah had been correct about half of them sharing Lord Slade’s attributes of rank, good looks, and amiability, though Miss Featherstone did not think any of them as handsome as Lord Slade or his fine looking brother. And she knew none of them could match him intellectually.

  A pity his lordship – unlike the other callers – had not thought to bring flowers to Lady Sarah.

  One by one the others filed before the beautiful heiress, presenting her with bouquets and praising her great beauty.

  Lady Clegg summoned a footman and instructed him to find vases of water for all the flowers.

  “I have searched every flower seller in London,” the Viscount Pennington declared as he presented Lady Sarah a single iris, “to find a flower to match the colour of your beautiful eyes.”

  Did the man not realize irises were not blue?

  The somewhat portly Mr. Raikes came to stand before the beauty and unfolded a sheet of velum. “Allow me to present you a poem in praise of your beauty, Lady Sarah. I will not take the time at present to read it to you, but I pray you will do so when we take our leave.”

  “Oh, most certainly, Mr. Raikes. How very kind of you.” Lady Sarah barely finished addressing Mr. Raikes when Lord Fordwich came to bow before her, offering a posy of pastel flowers gathered in lace.

  “Allow me to say how honored I am to pay tribute to your great beauty, my dear lady.”

  Miss Featherstone now understood how tedious such adoration could be. For the first time since she had been presented, Miss Featherstone was grateful she did not possess astonishing beauty. She particularly did not ever want to be in the position where she would have to disappoint a lovelorn suitor.

  Once all the offerings had been bestowed, the gentlemen began to converse. Would Lady Sarah be at the Rivertons' rout? How had she enjoyed the ball at Lord Spencer’s?

  The Viscount Fitzherbert asked her if she would join him for a ride in the park that afternoon. Before responding to him, she turned to Jane. “Will you be riding in the park this afternoon, my dear cousin?”

  “As a matter of fact I shall.” This was a first for Miss Featherstone. Two days in a row she would be escorted to the park by gentlemen. Two different gentlemen–one of whom was very far above her own touch.

  “Who will you be riding with?” Lady Sarah asked.

  “Mr. Poppinbotham.”

  Lady Sarah’s brows plunged. “Have I met him?”

  “I don’t believe so. He’s seeking Papa’s advice because he means to stand for Parliament.”

  Lord Slade spoke for the first time since he’d offered the ladies his chair. “I had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman at Miss Featherstone’s house this week.”

  “I understand you're interested in Whig politics, Lord Slade?” Lady Sarah said.

  “Very.”

  The beauty frowned. “Papa is a Tory.”

  “I have many friends who are Tories,” his lordship said.

  Lady Sarah’s attention returned to the young man who had asked her to ride with him later that day. “How very kind of you to ask, Lord Fitzherbert. Perhaps we can join up with my cousin and her Mr. Poppinbotham.”

  “He’s not my Mr. Poppinbotham!”

  Lord Slade addressed the beauty. “A trip to the park certainly does not mean the couples are exclusive to one another.” His bitter glance fell first to Viscount Fitzherbert, and then he smiled at Miss Featherstone. “Take me and Miss Featherstone, for example.”

  “Yes,” Lady Sarah interjected, “you accompanied her to the park yesterday, and you are only good friends.”

  “Almost as a brother and sister,” said Lord Slade, his sly glance falling on Lord Fitzherbert.

  Though she knew his words true and knew that a plain Jane like her could never aspire to captivate a man as lofty as Lord Slade, his words stung. Brother and sister.

  ***

  That afternoon Mr. Poppinbotham came to claim Miss Featherstone exactly at four of the clock. He was dressed in what he undoubtedly considered fashionable afternoon dress for a gentleman of means, but his ideas of fashion and Miss Featherstone's were two entirely different matters.

  She could find nothing to dislike in his light gray pantaloons. In fact, they were obviously cut by a master tailor. His waistcoat of purple silk spotted with lavender was a bit more bold than Miss Featherstone would have preferred, and the profusion of knots in his exceedingly large cravat was too overdone for her taste, which veered toward the plain. Like her.

  A scarlet coat completed his dress. As one who had studied art, Miss Featherstone understood that all his colours were from the same families, which was admirable. At least he hadn't paired pumpkin with pink. But, still, she could not admire his style.

  His equipage was another matter altogether. In this opulent display, Mr. Poppinbotham had put his considerable funds to good effect. All four of the matched bays had been hitched to the gentleman's very fine open barouche, and a driver in lime livery sat up on the box.

  "What a very fine carriage this is," she told him as he assisted her onto the rolled leather seat.

  A smile of satisfaction lifted his sagging cheeks. "It bloody well ought to be. Set me back four-hundred guineas--not counting the horses which were very dear. Very dear indeed."

  She searched her brain, but Miss Featherstone could not recall anyone of her acquaintance ever disclosing what they paid for something. It simply wasn't done.

  Once they entered the gates of Hyde Park, where a queue of equipages funneled inward, such a fine carriage could not go unnoticed. Miss Featherstone was just vain enough to be flattered that a gentleman obviously meant to call attention to his connection with her.

  And she did not think he considered them brother and sister.

  When he had called on her, his eye had appreciatively swept over her from the tip of her bonnet and down the length of her soft pink pelisse. "You are the very picture of loveliness today, Miss Featherstone," he had told her. Perhaps some men did admire flag-pole figures.

  As she sat beside him, she took the opportunity to discreetly study his person. Though his face and limbs were slender, the man was possessed of a large, round stomach. Certainly nothing like Lord Slade.

  She had no right to be comparing the two men. She, certainly, was no Lady Sarah, either in beauty,
rank, or fortune. She was bereft of all three. Therefore, she should be grateful to any man who paid her court.

  Papa was almost seventy and not in the best of health. Did she really want to be the unwanted maiden aunt in Lavinia's home once Papa was gone?

  She flashed a smile at Mr. Poppinbotham. "How did your trip go yesterday?"

  "Very profitable."

  Is money the only thing the man ever thinks of? "Well, it's nice to have you back in London. You must have sway with the weather gods." Her gaze whisked up at the blue, cloudless sky.

  "Couldn't have asked for a finer day."

  As they drove along, Miss Featherstone nodded to several lone riders with whom she was acquainted, and she extended greetings to several couples perched on phaetons. That many of those she addressed bore titles obviously impressed Mr. Poppinbotham.

  "I envy you your contacts. You are invited into these aristocrats' homes?"

  What a silly question! "I suppose I have invitations for events every day of the week at homes of the nobility, but I'm not terribly interested in balls and assemblies."

  "What of the venerable Almack's? Have you ever been fortunate enough to wrangle a voucher?"

  She laughed out loud. "My first two seasons, I had a subscription there. I chose not to this year because I am not particularly enamored of dancing. Had I need to go there, I daresay I could procure a voucher from my friend Lady Cowper, one of the patronesses." She smiled at him. "Tell me, Mr. Poppinbotham, do you enjoy dancing?"

  "Sadly, I must own that when I was a younger man I was too busy making my fortune to go about to assemblies."

  "Then you've never learned to dance?"

  He shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no, no! I took lessons all of last year. Cost me twenty quid, but when he was finished, my dancing master proclaimed me fit for Almack's."

  So he wants to "wrangle" an invitation. Should she try to facilitate it? After a short deliberation, she said, "Should you like me to get you a voucher, Mr. Poppinbotham?"

  His dark eyes brightened. She had to admit the man was possessed of very fine eyes. "I would be ever so grateful, but I should not want to go without you, Miss Featherstone."