You have all the attributes her father desires and she would make a fine marchioness, not to mention bringing a prodigious fortune with her.’
‘Then I wish you would not think of me. I am not looking for a wife. And please note, I do not intend to use my title, certainly not to capture a bride. I am plain Captain Alexander Carstairs and I’ll thank you not to forget it.’
Jonathan held up his hand in mock supplication. ‘Pax, my friend! I was roasting you. It is not like you to take offence so quickly.’
‘I have not taken offence. I simply wanted to make sure you understood.’
‘I am not at all sure I do, but never mind, I will say no more on the subject.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I think I prefer the captain to the marquis in any event; the marquis is not so much fun. Do you go home or will you come to White’s for a hand or two?’
‘I mean to go home. I must be up betimes in the morning if I am to be at Long Acre at noon. I intend to be on my way half an hour later. I think I will take a short detour and call on my mother on the way. She may like to come with me to Norfolk. If the Piccadilly Gentlemen need me, James knows where to find me.’
‘Then I will bid you adieu.’ Jonathan hailed a chair, which was passing empty, and climbed inside. ‘Come back soon. London will be monstrous dull without you.’
And with that the chairmen picked up the handles and trotted off with him. Alex continued on his way, smiling a little, thinking of Jonathan’s teasing. He might have the attributes Henry Gilpin insisted upon, but one thing was certain: one spoilt daughter of a widowed father was more than enough. He would never fall into the same humiliating situation again. Neither would he use his title, which in no way altered the man he was.
‘It was a pleasant evening,’ Henry said as he and Charlotte journeyed home. ‘It raised several hundred pounds for the orphans and I was introduced to Sir Bertram Hambleton, who is desirous of bespeaking a travelling coach. I am assured by Lord Leinster that he is well able to pay for it, being heir to Viscount Beresford, who is rich as Croesus. I am to travel down to his estate in Oxfordshire to talk about his requirements. There may be more than one vehicle to manufacture. Shall you mind being left on your own?’
‘Of course not, Papa. You have done it before, many times, and the work will go on quite well in your absence. When shall you go?’
‘It has not been decided yet. In a week or two. Sir Bertram has business in town and I must wait until he is ready to return home. I will see the work started on the new landaulet for Mr Corton before I leave.’
‘Then it is as well we do have a new man starting tomorrow, if you are to be away.’
‘I am quite taken up with Sir Bertram,’ Henry went on, discounting the argument that he never did any of the practical work and had not done so for many years. Not that he couldn’t if he chose, he was fond of telling her. ‘He is young, twenty-four, I believe, and besides having good prospects, presents an altogether pleasant demeanour.’
‘Papa, are you thinking what I think you are? You promised not to matchmake.’
‘Oh, I am not matchmaking, child, simply pointing out his good points.’
‘And you said you would cease to call me child.’
‘I forgot,’ he said blandly.
The more her father sang the praises of the various titled bachelors with whom he came into contact, the more determined she was to resist his efforts to marry her off. She was not ready for marriage, was not sure she ever would be if it meant surrendering her independence and giving up her part in running the business. When she fell in love would be time enough to consider that, but not before. If she fell in love. Perhaps she never would and a marriage without love was not to be borne. The matter of a title, in her eyes, was entirely irrelevant. Why, Captain Carstairs had no title, but she was convinced that he was every inch a gentleman.
Now, why had she suddenly thought of him? Was it because she had been talking to him only two hours before? Was it because of his masterly handling of the accident earlier that day? Was it his good looks and his easy manner? He had not paid her any particular attention beyond politeness and affability, no more than Viscount Leinster had and his lordship was a happily married man.
Alex rose early, intending to ride in Hyde Park before going to Gilpin’s. He would have to leave his mount behind while he was in Norfolk and he would not have the pleasure of a gallop until he returned. Besides, Pegasus needed exercise.
The animal was well named. He carried Alex’s weight easily and covered the ground almost as if he were flying. Alex loved the exhilaration and, once in the park, eschewed the usual bridleway and let him have his head. Although early, the day promised to be warm and sunny, a beautiful day for a ride. He was galloping across the rough grass towards a stand of trees when he noticed he was not the only one out early. A lady on a magnificent bay mare was galloping across the grass. She had a wonderful seat, at one with the horse, and was evidently enjoying the ride. He pulled up to watch her, wondering how long she could keep going before the animal decided he had had enough and threw her?
It was not the animal that forced her to pull up, but a horse and tumbril which suddenly appeared out of the trees as she was passing. Alex held his breath, expecting the worst, but she showed herself to be in full control of her mount. She pulled him up with a flurry of hooves and turned angrily on the man who had been driving the vehicle and who had jumped to the ground and taken hold of her bridle. She raised her crop and brought it down sharply on the man’s hand, but he did not let go. And then another ruffian appeared and came round to the other side of her and attempted to edge her and her mount towards the cart, making the mare shy. Alex decided it behoved him to intervene.
He was riding without a sword, but he always carried a pistol in a holster on his saddle and he drew it as he approached at a gallop. He dare not fire for fear of hitting her, but the arrival of a man brandishing a gun was enough for the two men; they scrambled into the cart and urged it into a gallop. It was when he turned to go back to the rider that he realised the lady was Miss Gilpin.
He dismounted and ran to where the pale-faced lady still sat on her horse, which was standing perfectly still now.
He reached out to her and she slid from the mare and into his arms. He held her while she regained her breath, which was coming in great gasps. ‘You are safe now,’ he murmured. He could feel her heart beating hard against his chest, making him realise just how frightened she had been. She wasn’t so mannish, after all. Her closeness, the way her body seemed to fit so snuggly into his, the scent of violets on her hair, was enough to send his senses reeling. It was years since he had held a woman like that and she was stirring passions in him which he had forgotten existed.
‘Thank you,’ she said when her breathing steadied and she drew away from him to look up at him. ‘I do not know what I would have done if you had not been on hand.’
He looked down into her face, uplifted to his. Her lips were slightly parted and he was inexplicably tempted to kiss her, but thrust the temptation from him. ‘I am glad that I was,’ he said, trying to control his ragged breath enough to answer her. ‘What did they want?’
‘I don’t know.’ She was calmer now, but still pale, still in his arms. Until she moved, he would not put her from him. ‘I have nothing on me worth taking, except my horse, of course. Do you suppose that was what they wanted? Amber is a valuable beast.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, careful not to wonder aloud why they
