Lord Kane's Keepsake Read online

  LORD KANE’S KEEPSAKE

  Sandra Heath

  Chapter One

  Long evening shadows were cast by the fading mid-September sun as the carriage drove along the southern boundary of Hyde Park, on the last part of its one-hundred-and-twenty-mile journey from Dorset to Mayfair’s fashionable Grosvenor Square. The team was tired, and the vehicle’s dark-blue panels were spattered with mud from the open road because there had been rain earlier in the day. The horses’ breath stood out in clouds, for the summer of 1809 had ended suddenly, and the chill of a surprisingly early autumn was already in the air.

  There were two passengers in the carriage, twice-widowed Mr. George Rutherford, of Foxley Hall, Dorchester, and his daughter by his first marriage, twenty-two-year-old Emma. It was on Emma’s account that the journey to London was being undertaken, for in the spring she had become an heiress, having unexpectedly inherited a comfortable fortune through some distant connections of her late mother’s family, and this change of circumstance had secured her a very advantageous match indeed.

  Instead of simply being the daughter of a minor Dorset landowner, with the prospect of sharing her father’s wealth with her half-brother, Stephen, and with the consequent prospect of achieving a marriage within neighboring Dorset circles, she had attracted the attention of no less a gentleman than Gerald Fitzroy, Lord Kane, who would one day succeed his grandfather as the Earl of Cranforth.

  Gerald was handsome, sought after, and immensely wealthy, and his interest in someone as insignificant as Emma was regarded as nothing short of amazing, but on the strength of a single meeting in July, he had offered to marry her, and on her behalf her delighted father had readily agreed.

  It was a calculated, businesslike arrangement, but one of considerable social importance, and when it became formalized on Halloween at a betrothal ball at the Earl of Cranforth’s residence in Park Lane, most of London’s beau monde would attend. Society regarded Emma as a very odd choice for someone of Gerald’s rank and position, for he could have had his pick of aristocratic brides, and she not only lacked noble blood and social standing, she was not even considered to be a beauty.

  His friends believed him to be embarking upon an astonishingly unnecessary misalliance, and London was waiting with immense curiosity to see the future Lady Kane when she made her first appearance. Very few believed in their heart of hearts that the planned wedding would actually take place in the New Year.

  She would not be Gerald’s first wife, for he had been married before, and his adored wife, Margot, had died tragically in a carriage overturn. The first Lady Kane had been beautiful, fascinating, witty, and of noble birth, and few believed that someone like Emma Rutherford would ever be able to hold a candle to her. Losing her had plunged Gerald into despair, and he had vowed never to marry again, but his anxious grandfather had plagued him to do his duty, because Margot had not provided the necessary heir to ensure the continuation of the earls of Cranforth.

  At last Gerald had given in, and had begun to search for a suitable bride. He did not look in society circles, where everyone had known Margot, but instead looked beyond London to the provinces, and families whose daughters had no connection with the capital.

  It was only by chance that he discovered Emma, for a friend of a friend had mentioned her name, and when he had troubled to find out more, for reasons he kept strictly to himself, he had swiftly concluded that she would be ideal. He approached her father, and after the two gentlemen had met a number of times, Gerald was introduced to Emma herself. A further meeting was not considered necessary, for she was deemed to be all that was required to become the new Lady Kane.

  Mr. Rutherford had been astonished and delighted with the suddenness of this immense stroke of good fortune, for never in his wildest dreams had he thought that Emma would one day become a countess. It had not occurred to him to ask her whether or not she wished for the match, because in his view it was unquestionably advantageous, and since she had always been a dutiful daughter, he naturally believed that she would be as delighted and eager as he.

  His joy blinded him to the troubled look in her eyes, and made him oblivious of the slight hesitation in her voice whenever she spoke of her dashing husband-to-be. Even now, with the journey to London almost at an end, Mr. Rutherford remained blissfully unaware of his daughter’s reservations.

  He had fallen asleep in the seat opposite her, and his head lolled against the shining dark-brown leather upholstery. He was a frail man whose poor health made him appear rather older than his fifty-five years, and he was very well wrapped up against the evening chill. There was a thick woolen rug over his knees, and his feet rested on a warm brick wrapped in a square of cloth. A shawl Emma had knit for him had been placed around the shoulders of his fur-collared greatcoat, and his mittened hands were thrust deep into a large muff. He looked for all the world as if he had embarked upon a journey in a Russian winter, and yet when he was awake he had still complained of feeling the cold.

  His high-crowned hat had slipped forward, hiding a face that still retained an echo of the good looks that had made him so winning as a young man. He had china-blue eyes, fine features, and a kind mouth, and his figure had not yet succumbed to the thickening waistline that so often came with advancing years. His hair was white now, but had once been the rich dark-chestnut color that was now enjoyed by his son, by his second marriage, twenty-year-old Stephen, who also shared his handsome face and bright blue eyes.

  Even in his sleep Mr. Rutherford was mindful of his health, for he raised a hand to twitch the knit shawl more closely around his neck, to fend off the draft that was seeping through the carriage glass. He loathed traveling when the weather was cold, for such expeditions invariably led to several days in bed in order to recover his strength, and he had a horror of contracting a chill, no matter how slight, for on the last occasion he had been confined to his bed for several months.

  He would much have preferred to delay the betrothal until the following summer, but Gerald had been impatient to proceed without any unnecessary wait. Stephen had consequently been dispatched to London to find a suitable house to rent, and in due course the journey from Dorchester to Grosvenor Square had commenced.

  Toying nervously with the strings of her gray corded-silk reticule, Emma sat in silence opposite her slumbering father. The future Lady Kane and Countess of Cranforth was of medium height, with a softly rounded figure and a face that was charming and attractive rather than lovely. Her eyes were large and green, with long dark lashes, and she had rich dark-brown hair. The Rutherfords were a curly-headed family, but her curls were thicker, more luxuriant, and more shining than Stephen’s were, or her father’s ever had been.

  When brushed loose, her hair tumbled in a shining mane about her shoulders, and the enviable curls did not need the assistance of papers or tongs. A great deal of patience and toil were necessary with comb and pins, however, for such hair did not submit easily to the neat, precise styles that were de rigueur for ladies of fashion. Never had Emma been more aware of this wearying fact than over the past three days, when she had been without the services of her maid, Dolly Makepeace, who had preceded her to London to see that her wardrobe was in readiness. It was as well that the not entirely satisfactory results of her labors could be safely concealed beneath a Gypsy hat.

  But if her coiffure was slightly less than perfect, the same could not be said of the rest of her appearance, which was everything that was commendably modish for someone who had never set foot in London before. Emma was nothing if not practical, and had always assiduously subscribed to London fashion journals. She had a dressmaker in Dorchester who was particularly clever at copying the illustrations in such publications, and as a consequence, Emma’s wardro
be was as stylish as any highborn London lady’s. It was a fact that although she was inwardly far from assured and at ease about the prospect that now lay ahead, outwardly she gave every appearance of being poised, stylish, and prepared.

  For the journey she was wearing a primrose velvet pelisse over a white jaconet gown, and her Gypsy hat was made of shining gray straw, tied on with primrose satin ribbons. Her dainty shoes were made of black japanned leather, and her kid gloves were dyed the same gray as her hat and reticule. The only jewelry she wore was the pair of drop-pearl earrings bequeathed to her by her mother, and they trembled slightly at the motion of the carriage.

  She gazed out at the London scene. The roads had been busy for some time now, even though it was a Sunday evening, and it was all a far cry from rural Dorchester, where the daily arrival and departure of the Exeter mail was a noteworthy event. There were no empty streets now, but a constant flow of stagecoaches, hackney coaches, mails, carriers’ wagons, carts, drays, and a generous sprinkling of private carriages, cabriolets, curricles, gigs, and phaetons. The sound of wheels and hooves filled the evening air, and Emma found it all a little overwhelming, as indeed she had found everything since she had so unexpectedly come to Lord Kane’s attention.

  The corner of Park Lane and Piccadilly lay ahead now, and she could see the first Mayfair mansions looking out over Hyde Park. She lowered her eyes, for her courage was weakening with each yard the carriage traveled. This match was a mistake, and if she had any wisdom at all, she would withdraw from it while there was still time.

  If she had any wisdom? Oh, it was easy enough to think such things, but when it came to carrying them out, then it was a very different matter, especially when one’s heart had been set at sixes and sevens by a man whose heart was not even remotely engaged.

  She twisted and untwisted the strings of the reticule, recalling her one and only meeting with Gerald. It had been in the library at Foxley Hall, and she had been wearing a cherry muslin gown that was embroidered with little white daisies. The July sunlight had been very bright, streaming in through the windows, and in the garden the flowerbeds had been a riot of summer colors.

  She had been waiting for some time, and in some trepidation, for it hardly seemed credible that a man like Lord Kane would go through with such an unlikely match. The library doors had opened suddenly, and her father had ushered their aristocratic guest in to meet her. She had found herself looking at the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen, and her foolish heart had almost stopped within her.

  Gerald was thirty years old, with clear gray eyes and wavy hair that was so dark it was almost black. He was tall, with broad shoulders and slender hips, and there was an assuredness about him that came from centuries of privilege and position. He was impeccably dressed in a pine-green coat with a high velvet collar and shining brass buttons, and his white corduroy breeches clung to his form like a second skin.

  His waistcoat was made of costly white piqué, and it was only partly buttoned in order to reveal the starched white frills of his shirt. A pearl pin nestled in the folds of his silk neckcloth, and there was a gleam on his tasseled Hessian boots that must have taken his valet an age to achieve.

  She had hardly heard her father introducing them, and a startling frisson of pleasure had passed through her as Gerald took her hand to raise it to his lips. His glance had taken in every inch of her appearance, but there had been no way of knowing whether or not she met with his approval. Her heartbeats had quickened almost unbearably, and she had been hard put to hide her confusion. Then she had noticed the pale mark on the fourth finger of his left hand, where his wedding ring had reposed so recently that he had probably removed it only as he approached Foxley Hall in his carriage. That pale mark was a sobering reminder that he was seeking a second wife only because he required an heir, and that any marriage he entered into would be one of convenience, not love.

  He had adored his cherished Margot, and Emma Rutherford, if she became the second Lady Kane, would never replace her in his heart, even though she might replace her in his bed. This was what had troubled Emma ever since, for her reaction to him had been so bewildering and responsive that she knew she was already perilously close to falling completely in love, and if that should happen, then immeasurable heartbreak lay ahead for her. Could she risk that? Or would it be infinitely more sensible to cry off now, before things proceeded any further?

  The carriage turned north by Apsley House, entering Park Lane, which formed the western boundary of Mayfair. Fine houses and superior streets stretched away into the heart of the capital’s most sought after area, and Emma glanced out at the late-evening sunlight as it flashed on the elegant windows. She knew that in a moment or so she would see Cranforth House, where the betrothal ball was set to take place the following month. Gerald did not reside there, for it was his grandfather’s London residence, and Gerald had his own house a mile away in St. James’s Square. Cranforth House had been closed for a number of years, because the earl preferred to live at his country seat, Cranforth Castle in Derbyshire, The Park Lane house was being prepared for him, however, and there were lights in the windows as the carriage drove past.

  Emma stared at the beautiful mansion, which was very splendid indeed, with a white portico and a carriage porch. A semicircular entry swept in and out through two wrought-iron gateways ornamented with the distinctive Fitzroy family crest, a double-headed phoenix. Behind the mansion, only briefly glimpsed through a postern gate, lay some of the most beautiful gardens in London, covering several acres of the finest part of Mayfair.

  The carriage drove on by, and Emma turned to look back. Her misgivings had increased perceptibly, for there was something rather austere and forbidding about Cranforth House. She was used to the homeliness of Foxley Hall, which was a rambling red-brick Tudor house of comfortable proportions, and which bore no resemblance at all to this grand building overlooking Hyde Park.

  Leaving Park Lane behind, the carriage turned east again, driving along Upper Grosvenor Street toward Grosvenor Square and the house that Stephen had secured for their stay. He had had some difficulty in finding a suitable property, but then had heard that Lady Bagworth, an elderly, infirm widow, had been instructed by her physician to take a lengthy cure in Bath. Ever thrifty, her ladyship had decided not to leave her London residence empty while she was away, and so Stephen had been able to take a six-month lease of the house, fully furnished, and complete with servants. In Stephen’s opinion, the property was the perfect place for the future Lady Kane, and would be entirely appropriate when she received calls from the many new friends and acquaintances he was certain she would meet in London.

  Emma’s thoughts moved away from her impending betrothal and settled instead upon her rather wayward younger brother. She wondered what he had been up to during his month of freedom in London, for even though she loved him very much, she was well aware of his shortcomings, chief among which was his penchant for gambling. The two years that separated them in age were sometimes very evident indeed, for there were times when she felt infinitely more sensible and mature than he.

  He was so impressionable and headstrong that he was constantly getting into scrapes, and his liking for the green baize tables had brought him into several brushes with the duns. Their father had had more than enough of Stephen’s misconduct, and before his departure for the capital had issued a stern ultimatum: Stephen was strictly forbidden to gamble at all during his stay in London, and if he did, then he would find himself without an allowance. Emma hoped that her brother had seen the error of his ways, but she doubted it very much, for Stephen was one of those people who only learned the hard way.

  At last the carriage entered the southwestern corner of Grosvenor Square, which covered six acres and was the largest quadrangle in Mayfair. It had a leafy, railed central garden with a gilded equestrian statue of George I as a Roman emperor, and was surrounded by about fifty houses, most of them built of red brick, with stone facings, decorative fanlig
hts, and pedimented doors. The houses had basements that were separated from the pavement by graceful wrought-iron railings that met in elegant arches before the entrances.

  As the September sun sank further and further in the west, more and more lights appeared in windows, and a lamplighter was going about his business, assisted by his boy. A flower girl was endeavoring to sell the last of her posies before going home, and as the carriage drew to a halt, Emma heard her calls: ‘‘Roses. Buy my red roses.”

  Lady Bagworth’s house was on the southern side of the square, and Emma looked up at it. Like most of the others, it was built of red brick, and its door was approached by steps that bridged the basement area. It had four stories above ground level, with tall rectangular windows that diminished in size with each ascending floor. It possessed a quiet air of opulence and good taste, and was almost welcoming, a fact for which Emma was most relieved. But would she be married from here in the new year? Or would she soon be fleeing home to the safety and seclusion of Foxley Hall?

  She wished she wasn’t so full of doubt where Gerald was concerned, but she couldn’t help herself. If she had been able to approach the match as detachedly as he, then there would not have been any problem, but she could not, and so the problem was there. But was it an insurmountable problem? Once she knew the answer to that question, then she would know whether or not she could become Gerald’s wife.

  Chapter Two

  The ceasing of the carriage’s motion awoke Mr. Rutherford with a start. He pushed his hat back from his face and looked around.

  Emma smiled at him. “We’ve reached the end of the journey, Father.”

  “We have?” He breathed a sigh of relief, glancing out at the house. “Upon my soul, it’s a handsome establishment.”

  “And so it should be, considering the sum her ladyship saw fit to demand,” Emma replied.

  The carriage’s arrival had not passed unnoticed in the house, for the door opened suddenly and a butler emerged, ushering before him two liveried footmen who were instructed to attend to the unloading of the carriage boot. Emma knew from Stephen’s one and only letter from London that the butler’s name was Saunders, and that he had once served on the royal naval frigate commanded by the late Lord Bagworth. On that gentleman’s retirement, Saunders had accompanied him, and had served the Bagworth family ever since.