about five.’
‘If I happened to be walking there at that time, would you offer to take me up?’
‘I should be honoured. At five, then?’
Eleanor took a deep breath and said, ‘At five.’
They had reached the end of the path where John was waiting for her. Mr Guthrie raised his hat again, gave a nod to the groom, and rode off in the direction of Knightsbridge. Eleanor returned to South Audley Street, wondering if she had gone mad.
Chapter Two
By the afternoon she was sure she was mad. Hyde Park was crowded with the ton all taking their afternoon airing—walking, riding and driving in every form of vehicle. Gentlemen drove by in their gigs and curricles, ladies displayed their pretty dresses and parasols in open landaulets—the smarter set in handsome barouches—and Eleanor had the feeling that here was a world just waiting to watch her defy it. If she had not given Mr Guthrie her word she would have obeyed her strong inclination to go back to her aunt’s house before the fatal hour of five.
However, when the gentleman stopped and offered to take Miss Southeran up, Eleanor interrupted her aunt’s refusal, and accepted. In response to Lady Walcot’s startled protest, Eleanor said firmly, ‘Forgive me, Aunt Hetty. Half an hour only,’ and climbed into the phaeton. She ignored the stares directed at her and put on an air of serenity which belied the pounding of her heart as Mr Guthrie drove off.
‘Bravely done! Allow me to congratulate you.’
‘I am not at all sure it is a matter for congratulation, sir! As you very well know, I run the risk of being sent to Coventry for this venture. However, since I have only a short time left in London I can bear that. Why do people dislike you so?’
‘Because they mistakenly believe me to be dishonest and dishonourable.’
Eleanor blinked at this forthright statement. ‘Have they cause?’
Mr Guthrie paused. At last he said, ‘Matters are not always what they seem, Miss Southeran. They think they have cause.’
‘You are fencing with me, I think.’
‘You are right. Miss Southeran, there are reasons why I cannot be frank in talking of my own affairs. I do not intend to give you tedious half-truths. My hope is rather that if we could get to know each other better you would judge me more kindly than the rest of society does. But now you tell me that you have only a short time left in London?’
‘I return home in a week’s time.’
‘At the very beginning of the season? Do you not regret that?’
‘Not in the slightest. I love my home. I cannot wait to see it again.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Eleanor never needed much encouragement to speak of Stanyards, and with that and stories of India the half-hour passed swiftly for them both. It was with regret that Eleanor noticed that they were leaving the park and making for South Audley Street.
‘Where are you going tonight? Shall I see you there?’ asked Mr Guthrie as they drew up at the Walcot house.
‘Tonight? I think not. My aunt is taking me to a ball at the French ambassador’s.’ She paused, but curiosity got the better of her. ‘Tell me, how was it that you were at Carlton House last night? I thought all doors in London were closed to you.’
‘Not all, Miss Southeran, not all. There are still some brave souls who ignore Lady Dorothy and the other gorgons. The Prince Regent is one of them. Who knows—perhaps the French ambassador is another? But in case he isn’t, shall I see you tomorrow morning?’
‘I…I am not sure. I still have to make my peace with my aunt.’
‘Come! It took a great deal of courage for you to make this afternoon’s gesture on behalf of the underdog. Don’t waste it!’
‘Very well.’ She smiled slightly. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Eleanor entered the house in a defiant mood. Mr Guthrie had proved a most interesting companion and she found it hard to believe he was the scoundrel her aunt had described. She could see, however, that he might not appeal to those who set great store by polished manners and the elegant niceties of polite behaviour, and was surprised that he apparently had the entrée to the Prince Regent’s circle. But his abrupt style of address had not offended her, and she had actually found his directness curiously appealing. She felt a strong wish to see him again, and decided that she would do all she could to coax her aunt to agree. Meanwhile she would no doubt be faced with reproaches and some justifiable anger.
Lady Walcot was sitting in the salon on the first floor. When Eleanor walked in she said, ‘I am relieved to see you back safely.’
‘Aunt Hetty, I was never in any danger!’
‘A high-perch phaeton! Driven at such a reckless pace! It only shows what disregard the man has for any lady’s sensibilities—’
‘No, Aunt! I asked Mr Guthrie to take me in the phaeton. And we went rather sedately, I thought.’ Eleanor got up and went to sit beside her aunt. ‘Truly, Aunt Hetty, Mr Guthrie is not the villain you have described. We talked of the most interesting things, and though he is not as polished as some of your acquaintance he was always the gentleman.’
‘Really?’ Her aunt was still annoyed. ‘Allow me to tell you, Eleanor, that you have made a pretty spectacle of yourself this afternoon. What Lady Dorothy will say I cannot bear to think.’
‘Pray do not worry yourself over such a trifle! I am not concerned with Lady Dorothy and her tales.’
‘But you should be, Eleanor! She is not without influence in London, let me tell you.’
‘Not with me, Aunt Hetty.’
Her aunt ignored her. ‘I blame myself, of course. I should have remembered how wilful you can be, and told you more about him when you asked. What did he tell you? A pack of lies, no doubt.’
‘I don’t think so, Aunt. We didn’t discuss Mrs Anstey, if that is what you mean.’
‘I am not surprised at that—she would be the last person he would mention! Well, Eleanor, you have forced my hand. I shall tell you about Mr Guthrie. It is not an edifying story, as I think you will agree.’ Lady Walcot paused, then began, ‘Mrs Anstey is a widow. She is an Englishwoman, but she married a man from Boston in America, and lived there for many years. The family was a wealthy one and Mrs Anstey might reasonably have hoped for a comfortable and secure existence. However, some years ago her husband went into partnership in a business venture with the man Guthrie. Guthrie ruined them.’
‘In what way?’
Lady Walcot said impatiently, ‘How should I know what piece of chicanery was involved? I understand nothing of business or trade. But ruin them he did, and now Mrs Anstey and her daughter haven’t a penny to their name. That is your precious Mr Guthrie.’
‘How do you know all this, Aunt Hetty?’
‘Everyone
