Elizabeth Moss - A Most Dangerous Lady

A MOST DANGEROUS LADY

Elizabeth Moss

First published by: Thimblerig Press 2011

Copyright Elizabeth Moss, 2011

Third Edition

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this book can be reproduced or transferred by any means without the express written permission of the author.

This Third Edition reflects minor changes made in the wake of the publication of Poppeia and the Petticoat Club , its prequel.

CHAPTER ONE

London, 1820

Lord Trajan Randall looked across at the dowdy, unprepossessing lady he was partnering in the cotillion, and forced a smile as they came together again.

Lady Caroline, only daughter of the Earl of Lacey, had been an attractive enough chit in her first season - almost tempting him into an offer of marriage, he recalled with a shiver - but her debutante glow had long since faded.

Enjoying your evening, my lady? he asked, wincing at the banality of his question, but utterly at a loss what else to say.

Lady Carolines aunt, a formidable lady in a purple turban, had cornered him earlier by the open doors into the garden.

Time you danced with my niece, Trajan! she had boomed in his ear, with all the crushing familiarity of a matron who had dandled him on her knee as a baby. Her subtlety was equally crushing. You often danced with Caroline during her first season. Five years ago now, of course. And shes still unmarried!

Hard to conceive why, the Viscount found himself thinking ironically, eyeing the timid bespectacled creature opposite as the music ended.

Indeed, my lord, Lady Caroline belatedly replied to his question as she straightened from her curtsey, a slight flush in her cheeks. Very much so.

Trajan bowed gallantly enough to his partner, but inwardly he was reeling with boredom. Though not possessed of any keen desire for matrimony, he would soon have to make his choice from among the dozen or so eligible young debs making cow-eyes at him from across the room. He was leaving London tonight, and might not be back for a fortnight at least. Yet here he was, dancing one of the last dances of the evening with this unappealing dowd, famous for being marriage-shy.

With such looks, and little conversation, it was a wonder Lady Caroline did not disgrace her fine name by living out her days as an eccentric spinster.

May I escort you back to your aunt, my lady?

And why must the foolish girl wear her hair drawn up in such a severe chignon, topped with those absurd feathers? She looked set to become an ape leader, an unweddable and unbeddable old maid.

Yet her eyes, though marred by spectacles, were a pleasing enough blue, and Trajan seemed to recall that her hair looked to better advantage worn down.

Lady Caroline accepted his proffered arm, then appeared to trip over her own feet, saved from a fall only by his swift grab at her waist.

Clumsy too!

A startled gasp escaped her ladyship as he righted her, still grasping her waist which was, he could not help registering, alluringly slender.

Hurriedly, before anyone could comment on their closeness, Viscount Randall withdrew his hands. Yet Lady Caroline continued to stare up at him myopically through thick-rimmed spectacles that sat most uglily on an otherwise elegant nose.

Im sorry, my lord, she breathed, a flush daubing her cheeks. I lost my balance. You must think me so g ... gauche.

Not at all, he demurred, pretending not to have noticed that she was staring at him a little too hard.

Trajan had seen her look at him like that before and was abruptly on his guard. Surely the little nincompoop had not developed some embarrassing tendre for him?

Ah here is your aunt! he exclaimed with undisguised relief as they reached the refreshments table. And your father too. A very good evening to you, Lord Lacey.

Lord Randall, how are you? The Earl of Lacey shook his hand vigorously. And hows your mother?

Hopefully well, sir. I am about to find out, since I am invited down to her estates in Kent. By breakfast tomorrow, I should be enjoying the charms of country life.

What, youre surely not driving down tonight?

The roads are quieter by night, my lord. And there is a good moon tonight.

Oh, quite so. I daresay youre right. Damn ridiculous, the amount of traffic on the roads these days. So youre to escape the clutches of Londons debutantes, eh? Therell be some disappointed young misses in town when they hear of your departure!

Lady Carolines somewhat flushed papa finished his glass of Madeira, handed it to a passing servant and gestured for another.

Look here, Randall, he continued, what do you make of these wild goings-on up at Hounslow? Just been telling my sister all about it. Though I believe you have your own theories on the matter.

Trajans eyebrows shot up. He glanced with some surprise at the two ladies present. My lord?

Oh, dont mind my sister Matilda. She was out in Spain with her husband for three years. Until he was shot, of course. Nerves of steel now. Wont turn a hair, whatever colour the water. And Caro heres the one who mentioned the dashed affair to me in the first place. The portly Lord Lacey turned to his only daughter with an indulgent laugh. What did ye call it, mdear? The Petticoat Club?

Not surprisingly, given the scandalous nature of the story under discussion, Lady Caroline blushed. Her voice sank to an imploring whisper.

Hush, papa. People are staring!

Let them stare! Nothing better for them to do, I daresay. As for this Petticoat Club, it cant possibly be true. Young ladies stripping a gentleman of his ... his inexpressibles , damn it! Then tossing the poor naked fella out onto the heath for all to see? His lordship made a snorting sound. Never heard of any female doing such a thing.

Trajan nodded. I agree, my lord. No gentlewoman would lower herself to such a breach of good conduct.

Lady Caroline was looking at him with that odd, hard stare again. What, sir, not even in revenge ?

My lady?

Viscount Randall frowned at Lady Carolines muttered question, delivered sotto voce and at such speed he doubted whether he had even heard her correctly.

What a strange creature she was indeed.

You may depend upon it, Trajan continued more gently, turning to her, this Petticoat Club is a figment of some gentlemans imagination or injured pride. Your sex, and you must forgive me for pointing out the obvious, is neither physically powerful nor bold enough to undertake what is essentially a criminal act of highwaymanship. If Sir John Dallenby was indeed stripped and deposited on Hounslow Heath in the middle of the night, this was not achieved by a gaggle of girls scarcely out of the schoolroom, as Dallenby so ludicrously claims, but by some wrathful debtor in search of his money.

Lord Lacey clapped him on the shoulder approvingly. That does seem the likelier explanation! Poor Dallenby, eh? Borrowed some blunt, forgot to cough up, found himself roasted for it.

Lady Carolines aunt frowned. But what about the unspeakable Buckby? Didnt the man claim his coach was held up by a gang of armed women?

Another fantastic tale. Whoever heard of such an outlandish thing? Trajan was warming to his subject now. As Ive said before, the whole things a hum. Buckby didnt want to admit he was caught off guard by a highwayman. Thought hed throw his lot in with this Petticoat story, make it less embarrassing. But no female would be capable of executing such a daring plan.

My lord! Lady Carolines voice sounded strangled.

Bowing over her hand, Trajan smiled into Lady Caroline's cloudy bespectacled eyes. She was not only a sorry antidote, he realised, but a simpleton to boot. Thank goodness hed changed his mind about offering for her five years ago, or he might have ended up legshackled to this dim creature for life!