Regency Society. Ann Lethbridge

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left the lawyer’s office and crossed the road. He was lost in thought and did not notice the man following a short distance behind as he walked the length of two streets and entered his bank, before making his way, some minutes later, to a large jeweller’s establishment at the opposite side of the road.

      He did notice the man who entered a few moments after him and asked to look at a tray of diamond rings, because he was young, attractive and spoke in a soft voice that sounded foreign and his skin was deeply tanned. An Indian of a high caste, perhaps, Luke thought as the man took his time examining the expensive rings, perhaps the son of a wealthy maharajah. His English was perfect and he was dressed in Western clothes, but his accent was definitely not English.

      ‘Your pearls, sir,’ the jeweller said and opened the black velvet box to show Luke the single strand of large creamy pearls. ‘I hope they are to your liking?’

      ‘Yes, they are perfect. My bank will settle your account as usual.’

      ‘Thank you, sir. Do you wish them wrapped?’

      ‘No, the box will fit into my pocket,’ Luke said. He noticed that the shop’s other customer had agreed to purchase one of the rings as he slipped the box into his pocket and left the shop.

      Outside, he hailed a hackney cab and asked the driver to take him to his club.

      A few moments later, the dark-skinned gentleman came out of the shop and stood on the pavement in thought for a few minutes before turning away.

      ‘Luke, you are back!’ Roxanne cried as she saw him leave the house by way of the French windows and enter the rose garden. She moved swiftly towards him, her hands outstretched and a smile of welcome on her lips. ‘Your grandfather thought you would not arrive until the day before the ball.’

      ‘I told you I should not delay,’ he replied and took her hands. ‘How are you? I hope the old scoundrel has not been too grouchy?’

      ‘Luke! You really must not.’ She laughed and shook her head reproachfully. ‘He has been very kind to me. I must tell you that time goes very quickly here. The curate has been giving me piano lessons. He comes twice a week in the morning—and the earl actually left his apartments so that he could listen. They are both of the opinion that I have been taught to play, but need to practise often to become proficient.’

      ‘And do you enjoy your lessons?’

      ‘Yes, I do,’ she said. ‘No, do not look so dubious. I find playing very worthwhile and relaxing. I may never be as good as your mama was, but if I play well enough for my own amusement and the enjoyment of others it will be sufficient. I tried my hand at sketching, but I do not think it will suit me. I have no talent for it, I fear.’

      ‘You have talents enough, Roxanne. Do not be bullied into doing anything you do not wish to do.’

      ‘No, I shall not. There is more than sufficient to keep me occupied here. I have with the earl’s permission begun to plan a wild garden at the back of the house and the kitchen renovations have already started. The invitations for the ball took two days to complete, but since they went out we have been inundated with kind letters—and also some generous gifts. I have written thank-you notes, which the earl was good enough to frank for me.’

      ‘And so he should since he insisted that we hold a ball.’

      Roxanne looked up at him, caught by an inflection in his tone. He sounded annoyed, almost bitter. ‘Did you not wish for a ball?’

      ‘It makes no difference to me one way or the other— I thought it might be difficult for you, since you do not know any of our friends and relatives.’

      ‘We have had several morning visits since the news got out,’ Roxanne said. ‘Just a few of the earl’s neighbours. They were all very pleasant and friendly. I do not think the ball will make me uncomfortable.’

      ‘I am relieved to hear it.’

      The look on his face struck her as brooding and she felt her stomach twist with nerves. He was regretting the ball—and perhaps his impulsive suggestion that they should become engaged. Had he visited Mrs Fox in London? Was that why he seemed moody and disgruntled? If she was the woman he truly loved and could not wed, this arrangement must irk him. A sharp pain struck her to the heart, but she ignored her doubts and lifted her head to meet his gaze.

      ‘Yet the sooner it is all over the better.’

      ‘Is something wrong, Luke? It is not too late. If you wish to change your mind, I can leave. You could cancel the ball and tell everyone I jilted you—or was not suitable.’

      ‘Do not be foolish. Nothing has changed. Why should it? Grandfather seems to have accepted you and I see no reason to disappoint him. If you were agreeable, I might persuade him to have the wedding sooner than later—what do you say?’

      ‘If we are to be married, I see no reason to wait,’ Roxanne replied, though she could not meet his eyes. ‘I made a bargain with you, Luke—and I shall keep it to the last letter, if you wish.’

      ‘You mean you are willing to give Grandfather an heir?’ His gaze narrowed, intent and seeming to penetrate her mind, his look almost an accusation, though of what she did not know.

      Roxanne’s cheeks were burning, but she did not look at him as she replied, ‘Yes, I think we should not disappoint him if it is possible to oblige.’

      ‘Supposing an heir comes along—and then the old devil dies on us? What terms will you demand of me then?’

      ‘I have never demanded anything of you,’ Roxanne replied a trifle haughtily. Her head went up, her manner proud. ‘I should want to be a mother to my son, either here or somewhere else. Naturally, you would visit him, or, as he grew older, have him to stay with you wherever you wish.’

      ‘I do not much care for this place, but my son will inherit it one day. You could continue as its mistress, Roxanne. Unless you wish for your freedom, divorce is hardly necessary. I do not believe I should wish to remarry. I think I am not the domestic type.’

      ‘No, perhaps not,’ Roxanne admitted, her throat tight. Each word he spoke was like a blow to her pride and her heart, but she managed to conceal her feelings. She held herself stiffly, speaking carefully. ‘I believe you are telling me not to expect love or attention. You will continue to live in London and visit us occasionally—is that your wish?’

      ‘Yes. I have come round to the idea you suggested, Roxanne. I do prefer you to almost any other lady I have met. You do not bore or irritate me and I think we should suit—but I want your promise that you will not weep and reproach me if I take a mistress or stay in London for months on end. I cannot give you love and you must not expect it.’

      Roxanne hesitated. Could she keep such a promise? Her feelings for him had gradually become deeper since they had first met and she was very much afraid that her heart was already engaged. She ought never to have agreed to accompany him to London in the first place, or to entertain what was meant to have been a sham engagement. Somehow they had been drawn into something far deeper and for her more meaningful. It hurt to realise that for him nothing had changed. Yet Roxanne knew that she could not bear to walk away from him now. She must just bring all her arts as an actress into play and allow him to believe her feelings were not affected.

      ‘You know my situation, Luke. Here at Hartingdon

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