Lady Alexandra's Excellent Adventure: A Summersby Tale (28 page)

“The funny thing is, in spite of my inquiries, there hasn’t been the slightest trace of his daughter since then. I sent word out to a couple of agents who were already stationed in Belgium at the time, but they were unable to find her. It almost seemed as though she’d evaporated into thin air—until yesterday that is, when she finally resurfaced right here in London after a two year absence.” Percy paused for emphasis as his eyes met Ryan’s. “I was hoping I might be able to convince you to assist in this matter.”

“You do realize I no longer work for The Foreign Office, right?”

“First of all, if this were an official matter, it wouldn’t be handled by The Foreign Office. The Home Office would take care of it. And second of all, this is a private matter regarding a promise I’m honor bound to keep. I’d like to keep it off the books as much as possible.”

“You’re leaving me with very little choice here, Percy,” Ryan argued. “I was hoping to sow some oats this summer, perhaps even attend a few mandatory balls if I have to. What you’re suggesting hardly sounds like any fun at all.”

“Stop your bellyaching, Ryan, and man up,” Percy told him fiercely. “I’ll wager you’ve sown a whole granary full of oats by now—enough at any rate for you to wait a while before jumping into bed with the next actress who comes along. Damn it, boy, I’m asking you for a personal favor here.”

“Very well then,” Ryan said, still lacking any sign of enthusiasm for this unexpected venture. “What’s the chit’s name? And more important, who is she?”

Percy took another sip of his claret. A slow smile began to spread its way across his face. There was an impish gleam to his eyes as he turned his gaze on Ryan. “I’d be careful about calling her a chit if I were you,” he said. “After all, being The Marchioness of Steepleton, she
is
a couple of steps above you on the social ladder. And to answer your question, her name is Mary Croyden.”

Ryan stared at Percy with the very unpleasant feeling that he’d just been had. He should have known that Percy would keep an ace like this up his sleeve until he’d already agreed to help. If there was one thing Percy loved, it was the element of surprise. But Ryan was not about to be played the fool, especially when he very much doubted that The Marchioness of Steepleton was even a real title. “How on earth is that even possible?” he asked dubiously.

“Do I really have to explain it to you, Ryan? I would have thought that your father might have seen to the matter by now.”

Ryan groaned. “You know perfectly well what I mean, Percy. I’ve never heard of a Marquess of Steepleton and now there’s suddenly a Marchioness? Forgive me if I’m reluctant to believe such a thing, but it hardly makes much sense.”

“Hm . . . I suppose you’re right. You see, here’s the thing of it—the title went into obscurity for a number of years through lack of usage. For whatever reason he might have had, Mary’s father was bent on making his own way in life, as far away from the social constraints of the upper classes as humanly possible. All the same, he did manage to ensure that his daughter would one day inherit the title from him.

“The point is, if he believed her to be in danger—for whatever reasons he might have had, then she’s more likely to be so now that she’s returned to London and claimed her inheritance. The sudden appearance of a marchioness is going to make the headline in every gossip column this country has to offer. If someone’s out to get her, they’ll be crawling out of the woodwork before you know it, mark my word.”

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so boring after all, he mused. As it were, he rather liked the image he envisioned of himself dodging bullets as he saved the marchioness from imminent danger. There might even be a swordfight or two, perhaps a race across the countryside at breakneck speed while a group of ruffians chased after them, and . . . he suddenly blinked when he heard Percy’s voice practically yelling at him.

“Ryan? Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Hm? Oh, I was just wondering how I might best handle the matter.”

“Yes, I’m sure you were,” Percy told him with a frown. “You need not worry yourself about that however. I will ensure that Lady Steepleton receives an invitation to the first ball of the season, which happens to be this Saturday evening at Richmond House by the way. As charming as you are, I’m confident you’ll have no trouble at all in befriending her.”

“And once I find her—may I tell her why I suddenly have such a keen interest in her?”

“Ryan, you and I both know that women hate the feeling of being watched, even if it is for their own good. If she so much as suspects that your interest in her lies only in protecting her from supposed harm, she’ll most likely make it her mission in life to avoid you for the remainder of her days.”

“I see your point,” Ryan muttered as he mulled that over.

“You’re a handsome lad, Ryan. Surely it won’t be impossible for you to convince her that you are genuinely interested.”

“But I’m not.” Ryan said with a frown. “Am I to understand that you wish for me to give this woman a false impression of my true intentions?”

“It is for her own good, you know,” Percy remarked.

“Look, you know how much I despise dishonesty, Percy, and to take advantage of any woman’s desire to form an attachment just feels wrong.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Ryan, but spying is a pretty dishonest business.”

“Must you always mock me?” The frustration in Ryan’s voice was practically scratching at the walls. “Fine—if it will keep her alive, then I’ll agree to do whatever it takes—though, I’m by no means pleased about it; I’ll have you know.”

“I am so happy to hear it,” Percy remarked rather dryly as he drained his glass of its last few drops before jumping to his feet. He looked eager to be gone, no doubt before Ryan changed his mind. “I’ll see to it you get an invitation to Richmond House as well then shall I?”

“That would certainly be an excellent idea,” Ryan replied, his words dripping with sarcasm as he walked his father’s friend to the door.

“Listen,” Percy said, turning back around on the threshold and placing a solid hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want to get tangled up in right now, so I appreciate your help.”

Ryan nodded. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Oh, I hardly think so,” Percy chuckled, turning about and starting down the steps that led toward the pavement. “But thank you for saying so.”

Ryan remained in the doorway a moment longer until Percy had hailed himself a hackney and climbed in. Well, perhaps he ought to ask Hutchins to press one of his black tailcoats then. After all, he now had a marchioness to impress.

An Excerpt from

HOW MISS RUTHERFORD GOT HER GROOVE BACK

C
HAPTER
O
NE

E
mily clutched her canvas and easel tightly under her right arm as she quickened her step, her box of paints held firmly in her left hand. She realized she must look terribly awkward as she struggled along, trying desperately not to drop anything.

As the rustic little cottage with its climbing roses spread across its façade came into view, Emily hurried ahead. She was eager to return home for there was much to be done today. She and her sisters had been formally invited to attend the yearly ball at Coldwell Manor. It had of course been Adrian’s doing, for nobody would have thought to invite them otherwise.

The invitation had arrived a little over a week ago, and the three sisters had talked of nothing else since. It was the only invitation that they had received in the last year, as it had been the only one they’d received the year before that, and the year before that. And since it was only once a year that they were invited out, it had become the occasion they looked forward to with unparalleled eagerness and anticipation.

Bursting through the front door of the cottage, Emily immediately set down her cumbersome load on the floor to rest against the wall. She untied the green ribbon of her bonnet and removed it, running her fingers lightly through her hair. She was all jitters, she knew—something that would suit a young girl but hardly a fully-grown woman. So she took a moment to calm herself and smooth over her dress before quietly opening the door to the parlor.

Claire and Beatrice were both seated within, animatedly conversing with a guest that Emily recognized immediately. “Kate!” she exclaimed, forgetting herself and her composure as she rushed forward, her arms spread wide. “How good of you to have come! I’ve missed you terribly, and not a day has gone by where I haven’t wondered about you. How long has it been?”

“Far too long, I suppose,” Kate replied. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with a tall, shapely figure and light blonde hair. Her eyes were the clearest blue, her lips full and rosy. She and Emily had spent much of their childhood together in one another’s company, though they’d seen less of each other in recent years now that Kate’s family had moved to Stonebrook, the estate that her father had inherited from his brother.

At present, Kate had just returned from her annual two-week visit to her aunt and uncle. As they happened to live in London, Kate thoroughly enjoyed her visits.

“Tell me about your stay, Kate,” Emily said, as she took the last remaining seat. “It must have been thoroughly splendid. Was it?”

Kate gave a slight nod followed by a broad smile. “It was indeed. I was just telling Claire and Beatrice that Aunt Harriet and Uncle Geoffrey took me to the theatre a number of times. We saw Tchaikovsky’s
Sleeping Beauty
on one occasion and very much enjoyed
Romeo and Juliet
on another. And the parties! Oh Emily, you would have loved it . . . all the lovely dresses, the music, and the dancing.”

Claire and Beatrice both raised an eyebrow. “The dancing?” Beatrice asked. “Did you happen to meet any young gentlemen who sparked your interest?”

It was no secret that the main reason Kate’s parents encouraged her to visit London was in order for her aunt and uncle to introduce her to the
ton
. Her parents hoped that she would find herself a suitable husband there. She was, after all, approaching her twenty-fourth year. Still, she had returned from her visit earlier than intended, in order to attend the Carroway ball that evening.

Kate giggled shyly as a bright pink hue flooded her face. “I must admit that there was one particular gentleman who . . .”

A squeal of delight filled the air, cutting her off, and before Kate knew what was happening, Emily had sprung out of her chair and was throwing her arms about her in a tight embrace. “That’s wonderful news! You must tell us everything at once! Who is he? Are you engaged?”

“As a matter of fact, we have formed an attachment.” Kate peeled herself away from Emily, her cheeks even redder than before from all the attention. “However, I did intend for this to be a quick visit. After all, there are a lot of things that need my attention before the ball this evening. I understand from your sisters that you shall all be attending?”

Emily’s face brightened at the mere mention of that evening’s event and found it impossible to hide a brilliant smile. “Oh, absolutely,” she said. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Then I shall tell you everything later,” Kate said, looking at each of them with a secretive smile. “Now, I really must be off.” She rose to her feet and reached for her bonnet.

“Well, it was lovely to see you again,” Emily told her. “I shall look forward to seeing you this evening and finding out more about this elusive gentleman whom you plan to marry.”

“As shall I,” Kate told her with a small smile as she gave Emily a quick hug.

Emily and her sisters stood in the doorway and watched her walk away. She turned once to wave to them, still tying the ribbon of her bonnet below her chin.

“Her parents must be relieved,” Beatrice remarked as they went back inside. “Considering her looks and the fact that her mother is the Duke of Bedford’s sister, I’m surprised it took her this long to form an attachment.”

“She’s a romantic,” Emily said. “She believes in true love and a happily ever after just as much as I do. Finding that can take time.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about that, dear sister,” Claire said with a teasing smile.

Now it was Emily’s turn to blush. Her sisters were both aware of her undying love for Adrian. She had in truth pined away endless hours, daydreaming of what her future would be like if she were married to him.

“When do you suppose that he will offer for you?” Claire now asked. “From what you have told us, it seems that the two of you have some sort of understanding?”

“Yes, we do,” Emily said with a thoughtful smile. “I do not know if he is
in
love with me, as I am with him, but I do not doubt that he loves me in some way or he would not have suggested that we should one day marry.”

“I’ve told you too many times to count, surely he must be
in
love with you if he suggested as much,” Beatrice told her. “How could he not be?”

Emily regarded her sister for a brief moment. The concern was clear in her eyes. She was clearly worried that Emily would end up unhappy in her marriage if Adrian didn’t love her wholeheartedly.

“Oh, Bea,” Emily said, wishing she could wash away her sister’s fears. “You do so worry about us, don’t you?”

“It is my job to worry about you, and I do believe that it has kept you safe from harm thus far.”

“Well, Adrian would never hurt me. He has been my truest friend for as long as I can remember. I do not mind if he is not
in
love with me. I should find myself fortunate indeed if I became his wife, and I should be thoroughly happy. Aside from the fact that I can think of no other man that I would rather spend my life with, do you not see what my marrying him would mean for us?”

“Of course we do,” Claire told her. “We just don’t want you to give up on finding true happiness on our account. Emily, you must not agree to marry him just because it will reinstate us to our rightful positions.”

Emily gave an exasperated sigh. She knew how much her sisters loved her, but they were taking this too far. “Do you not see?” she asked them. “Marrying Adrian would be a dream come true for me—it would be
true
happiness. I love him with all my heart and I know that he loves me.”

“Then by all means, let us hope that he will soon honor your agreement and offer for you,” Claire told her.

“Yes, let’s,” Beatrice agreed with a warm smile. “Who knows? Perhaps you and Kate will both be married before the year is out.”