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

  "We must persuade Alex to oppose him."

  Slade considered the prospect for a moment. With assistance from his ducal brother, Alex Haversham might be able to absorb the hefty expense of electioneering, but it wasn't as if Alex had ever expressed an interest in political matters. Until very recently he'd been a soldier.

  And there was also the fact he was a bachelor--not a serious-minded bachelor like Slade who was worn down with the cares of providing for younger siblings. Alex was a hard-drinking, fun-loving chaser of women. "We have no assurances Alex would bend to our ways. His brother, after all, is a Tory. And I doubt our dear friend would be interested in so serious a pursuit. He's living a rather hedonistic life at present."

  "But back at Eton, it was decidedly apparent that our good friend's sympathies were firmly in the Whig camp."

  "A lot has changed since we left Eton ten years ago."

  "We must persuade him. You must. After all, it's said you're now the best orator in the House of Lords--and in the House of Commons before that."

  Slade rolled his eyes. "Let us go see him tomorrow."

  * * *

  The three couples went to one of the supper rooms to procure lemonade and sit for a moment, though nearly every step of Lady Sarah's progress was impeded by the flocks of young men begging to stand up with her later.

  Once they took their seats at one of the tables in the supper room, Lord Slade addressed the beauty. "This may be your only opportunity to sit down all night."

  The lady took a tiny bite of her dry cake. "La, my lord! I am accustomed to it."

  "I'm warning you, I mean to claim you for the last dance," he said.

  "I should be honored."

  Miss Featherstone was attempting to determine if her cousin was truly interested in his lordship. It was difficult to tell by her actions because she was possessed of lovely manners. Even Mr. Poppinbotham, of whom Jane knew her cousin did not approve, was addressed by Lady Sarah in the most polite way imaginable.

  Just that afternoon the cousins had discussed the prospective member of the House of Commons. "The man means to court you, Jane!" a shocked Lady Sarah had said.

  "Indeed he does," Jane had replied.

  "But, dearest, you are so far above that man's touch."

  "But, dearest, he is the only man in three years who has ever honored me in such a manner."

  "Well, I don't think you should encourage him. You know you can't marry him."

  "Why can't I?" Miss Featherstone challenged, her brows lowered as she glared at her cousin.

  "Because. Because you're much too fine for the likes of him. Surely you wouldn't even consider an offer from the man!"

  Jane's stomach roiled when she answered. This was the first time she had ever acknowledged her tumultuous decision. "But I would."

  Lady Sarah's jaw had dropped. "You cannot be serious! Can you honestly tell me you love the man?"

  "I cannot tell you that."

  "So you don't love him, but you'd be willing to marry him?"

  "It's that or be dependent upon Robert and Lavinia once Papa . . ." She could not bear to put words to her thoughts.

  "That's ridiculous! You can always have a home with me."

  "That's very kind of you, but has it not occurred to you that I would one day like to have my own home? That I would like to become a mother and have a family of my own?"

  The conversation had ended with Lady Sarah's eyes moistening over her cousin's plight.

  When they finished their lemonade and dry cake in Almack's supper rooms, Lord and Lady Wycliff took their leave. "Call at Grosvenor Square tomorrow, Sinjin." Lord Wycliff said to Lord Slade.

  Mr. Poppinbotham then begged Lady Sarah to stand up with him for the next set.

  "And I should like to sit it out," said Lord Slade, eying Miss Featherstone. "Will you stay and amuse me?"

  "Certainly, my lord." She glanced at her cousin, who was rising. "Neither Lord Slade nor I are especially fond of dancing."

  After Mr. Poppinbotham and her cousin had left the chamber, Miss Featherstone addressed his lordship. "How do you think your suit is progressing with my cousin?"

  "It's difficult to say. Lady Sarah is excessively agreeable to all of us who pay her court."

  "Yes, I was thinking the same thing. A pity we can't contrive some disaster which would render you a great hero."

  His black eyes glistened with amusement. "Like saving her from a swollen river, or rescuing her from a fire?"

  "Exactly!"

  "Pray, Miss Featherstone, I shouldn't want to be culpable in steering you on a path of deceit."

  "Of course you wouldn't. You pride yourself on your exceeding honesty. Isn't that what got you into this situation in the first place? Your desire to fulfill a promise to your dying father?"

  He grimaced, nodding.

  "I do hope you are falling in love with my cousin. She has so many good qualities." Other than her spectacular appearance and vast wealth. "Indeed she does."

  Not quite spoken like a man in love. The two needed more time together, Miss Featherstone decided. "I must change the topic of conversation, my lord, and beg that you assist poor Mr. Poppinbotham as he transitions from a mercantile world into our world. His political views cry out for guidance from someone like you, and I know he looks up to you."

  So Miss Featherstone was aware of Poppinbotham's lack of attributes. "No one is better suited to guide the man than you."

  "I thank you for the compliment."

  "It wasn't meant for a compliment. It is the truth."

  "You sound like my Papa."

  "Your father is not only the most intelligent man of my acquaintance, but he is also clearly the most noble."

  "I am in perfect agreement with you, my lord."

  "A pity I'm not courting you. We are always in agreement, my dear Miss Featherstone."

  Unaccountably, her stomach jostled. The very notion of his lordship courting her caused her heart to flutter, her breath to stutter. For she had been unable to shake from her thoughts the brotherly kiss he had dropped on her cheek a few nights earlier. While it may not have meant anything to him, it had meant everything to her. She had been profoundly moved over the kiss, even though it was not a real kiss.

  The night of the kiss, with heart racing and thoughts morose, she had been unable to sleep.

  Now, as she peered into his earnest face, she was compelled not to look away. Their eyes locked and her limbs began to tremble. Then her gaze flicked away. "It is a pity you're being forced into a courtship you would not have chosen, had you the luxury of free choice."

  "Alas," he said, shrugging with resignation, "my bed is made, and now I must lie in it."

  She straightened her gloves where they had wrinkled over her wrists, careful not to make eye contact with him. "Of course we both know you will be the most fortunate man in the three kingdoms if you can win my cousin's hand."

  "Without question. There is no one better to meet all my needs than the lovely Lady Sarah."

  She almost felt sorry for her beautiful cousin. Was Sarah's future as a wife intrinsically tied to her bounty, to her ability to meet her future husband's needs? What of love? There was, thankfully, the fact that Lord Slade had given his word. He would not ask for Lady Sarah's hand until he could truthfully tell Lady Sarah he loved her. Miss Featherstone had complete confidence in his lordship's honesty.

  Lord Slade stood and offered her a hand. "Come, let us see how our former partners progress."

  She froze for a moment as her eye traveled from the tip of his dark head, to his broad shoulders sheathed in fine black wool, to the starchy white cravat beneath his bronzed face. A well-tailored tail coat hugged his long torso. Her gaze then whisked over his long, powerful legs. How could silly Sarah not have fallen madly in love with such a magnificent man? Jane rose and placed her hand in his, not without a renewal of that fluttering in her heart.

  When they reached the large assembly room, they backed up near the wall and surveyed
the dancers. By now Mr. Poppinbotham and Lady Sarah had paired up with fresh partners. Miss Featherstone watched with amusement as her cousin danced with Lord Slade's brother, Captain St. John. The captain looked exceedingly handsome in his red regimental coat and white breeches which clung to his long, sinewy legs. It did not escape Miss Featherstone's notice that every unaccompanied miss in the chamber was watching the handsome young officer.

  When the orchestra stopped playing, the others joined up with Jane and Lord Slade, and the brothers began to chat amiably.

  Mr. Poppinbotham neared Miss Featherstone and lowered his voice. "You must point out which gentlemen here are Members of Parliament."

  For the remainder of the evening, Mr. Poppinbotham, dressed in several shades of blue – except for his waistcoat which was of orange silk – escorted Miss Featherstone about the lofty chamber as she introduced him to men who had been elected to Parliament, most of them younger sons and younger brothers of peers.

  No matter what part of the room she found herself in, Miss Featherstone felt Lord Slade's eyes on her. She supposed he was every bit as snobbish as Sarah in his views toward the unfortunate Mr. Poppinbotham and his connection with her.

  She was just going to have to become inured to that.

  * * *

  On the ride home that night, it was all Slade could do not to try to stuff something into Mr. Poppinbotham's mouth to silence the pompous ass. And he just might if the man once more uttered, "When I get in Parliament. . ."

  "The redhead in pink with whom I danced," Mr. Poppinbotham asked Miss Featherstone, "does she hail from a noble family, too?"

  "Though she has no title like my cousin," Miss Featherstone nodded at Lady Sarah, "like me, she has connections. Her father is the third or fourth son, I can't remember which, of the Marquis of Hever. Can you enlighten Mr. Poppinbotham more than I?" Miss Featherstone directed her attention at the earl.

  "Good heavens, no," Slade said. "I couldn't possibly keep up with how many sons Hever's sired or in what order they were born. I tip my hat to you, Miss Featherstone."

  "Nor could I remember such insignificant information," Lady Sarah said. "Cousin Jane is blessed with an extraordinary memory."

  "Indeed," Slade said.

  "Miss Featherstone's intelligence has certainly been my observation," a self-satisfied Mr. Poppinbotham declared as he smiled at the lady being discussed. "She will make my entry into Parliament all the smoother, to be sure."

  Lord Slade glared across the dark carriage. "Have a care not to put the cart before the horse, Poppinbotham."

  "Certainly, your kind lordship. Electioneering comes before the prominence."

  The man was exasperating. "May I hope your desire to enter Parliament is not to achieve prominence but to serve those who have elected you?"

  "Of course, my lord. I am motivated by nothing save a burning desire to serve my fellow countrymen."

  Not bad. A pity the lout was so insincere. If only the fellow had decided to stand for Blythstone instead of Plymouth. With his own hefty purse and guidance from Slade and Wycliff, along with the idealistic Miss Featherstone, he could have been a formidable threat against Darrington-Chuff.

  Now it remained for Alex.

  If only they could persuade him.

  Chapter 8

  To Slade's surprise, Alex joined them the following morning as the three long-time friends assembled in the library of Wycliff's Grosvenor Square house. While Slade and Wycliff, both being dark-haired and taller than average, had always resembled one another, Alex looked vastly different. He was of average height and powerfully built. His hair had been quite blond when they were youths, but now it was a tawny brown, much like his skin had become after so many years on the Iberian Peninsula.

  "I will own, Sinjin, I found Wycliff's message rather cryptic," Alex said as he looked up from his seated position on a leather chair near the fire where Wycliff stood. "And why in the devil did I have to be here so wretchedly early in the morning? It is not my custom to rise before afternoon."

  Slade--still referred to as Sinjin by these two oldest friends--chuckled as he came to sit on a velvet settee facing the two. "Wycliff has an important matter he wishes to broach with you--something that must be done in person."

  Alex spun around to face his host. "What subject?" Given that he was the son of a duke, he was referred to as Lord Alex by everyone save these two life-long friends who only used the courtesy title in public.

  "Your two best friends desire that you stand for Parliament." Wycliff peered at Slade.

  Alex took a negative stance, holding up both palms. "Wait, wait! Has it never occurred to you that I have no interest in doing such a thing? Zero interest, to be precise."

  "It's not only that the three of us always pledged to do everything together," Slade added, "but there's also the fact it's critical to everything we believe that you defeat Darrington-Chuff."

  Alex's eyes widened. "Darrington-Chubb!" He used the name fellow Etonians had called their old foe. "He's the last man I'd expect to see in Parliament."

  "Apparently he's decided governing holds more allure than race meetings at Newmarket," Wycliff said.

  "Or shooting puppies for sport," Slade quipped.

  Alex turned up his nose. "Never could tolerate the fellow."

  Slade nodded. "With good reason."

  "It's my belief he's set his sights on the House of Commons merely to thwart Sinjin and me at every turn. We represent the reforms he's determined to stop."

  "He always was jealous of anything we did," Alex said.

  "His jealousies were more than envy." Slade frowned. "They were sheer hatred."

  "Yes," Alex said, "that's the Darrington-Chuff I remember. So what the devil does he promulgate?"

  "If he had his way, he'd take us back four hundred years to the days of absolute monarchy and beheading those who disagree with said monarch," Wycliff said.

  Alex nodded. "There would have to be something in it for him."

  "All the man wants is to be in with those who possess power," Slade said. "Preferably with the king. An all-powerful king."

  "Something like he always wanted at Eton. He wanted to be popular like we were." Alex shrugged. "Not that I'm boasting."

  "You're not. You were the most popular lad at Eton, and your popularity extended to Sinjin and me because we were your closest friends," Wycliff said.

  "That's just another reason why you're the most well qualified to defeat Darrington-Chuff."

  "If it's public speaking that bothers you," Wycliff said, "you must know that Sinjin's become what many believe to be the greatest orator in the House in Lords. He can give you pointers when you stand for Blythstone. He learned a thing or two about electioneering when he served in the House of Commons before he succeeded."

  "Who says I'm going to stand for Blythstone?" Alex's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  "We do." Slade poured a cup of coffee into an eggshell-thin porcelain cup which bore the Wycliff family crest. He went to hand it to Alex. "Coffee?"

  "I need something stronger."

  His friends ignored his comment.

  Alex regarded them from beneath lowered brows. "I know you've always been passionate about politics, Sinjin, but Wycliff's purported interest has somewhat baffled me. Even though I was out of the country for a great many years, as was Wycliff, I was told that his first year back in England he had no interest in taking his seat in the House of Lords."

  "You're right," Wycliff said. "My wife's the passionate one. She and her friend Miss Featherstone know more about what's happing in Parliament than half the members of the House of Lords."

  "The two women are very intelligent." Slade looked at Wycliff. "Perhaps you can tell him about the Lewis chap. Alex would never betray a confidence."

  Wycliff nodded and drew a deep breath. "My wife . . . is Philip Lewis. You've read him?"

  "Everyone has! But what are you saying, man?" Alex asked.

  "I'm saying that before we were marrie
d my lovely Louisa began writing her political essays under the name Philip Lewis."

  Alex looked perplexed. "But he's brilliant."

  "Not he. She," the other two men said at once.

  "You must never tell another soul," Wycliff warned.

  None of them spoke for a moment.

  "The fact you must agree with Louisa's well-thought-out pleas for reform," Wycliff said, "speaks to the fact you would represent the same things Sinjin and I stand for."

  "My head is spinning," Alex said, "and it's not from last night's brandy. Are you saying your new-found passion for reform was fed by your wife?"

  Wycliff shook his head. "No. My wife merely awakened in me the same ideals you and Sinjin and I discussed at length when we were lads at Eton. Ideals that now need your voice."

  Alex watched the waning fire and said nothing for several minutes. "Then everything Philip Lewis has ever written about--things like penal reform and compulsory education and extending the franchise--are things you two stand for in the House of Commons?"

  "Yes," Wycliff answered. "And unless those years on the Peninsula have dramatically changed you, I believe those are things you also believe."

  "I will own, such a voice is needed in the House of Commons, but you know I am not a good speaker," Alex said.

  "Sinjin will help you."

  "I'll also accompany you on every electioneering rally and will be happy to endorse you in the highest platitudes."

  Alex groaned. "It would be bloody difficult to beat someone as wealthy as he is."

  "Surely your brother would help," Wycliff suggested.

  "But my brother's a Tory!"

  Wycliff shrugged. "You needn't tell him at first what faction you align yourself with. I'm not asking that you lie. Just don't be altogether forthcoming about your principles."

  Alex, his face so serious it looked stern, sat silently for several moments before he finally stood. "It truly grieves me to have to turn you down. I'm just not cut out for such serious pursuits. I do not desire to settle down. I do not desire a respectable marriage. I do not desire to sit in Parliament even if I do agree with the principles you stand for. I fancy spending my time in the enthusiastic pursuit of fine brandy and women of compromised morals."