Claiming the Chaperon's Heart (13 page)

Whoever had shot at him from behind a tree had meant to wound, for he had fired a second time before taking flight as Adam and the groom came riding up and Adam had instantly taken a pot-shot into the darkness.

He must have an enemy, but he had no idea of who it might be—or what he had done to bring on such hatred. Why would anyone wish to kill him?

He’d been puzzling over it since the incident the previous evening, just as dusk was falling. Had the villain aimed only a little straighter, Paul might have been badly wounded or even dead.

His first thought was that his half-brother wasn’t old enough to conceive such a plot—nor would the boy or his mother know that he would be on the road from Newmarket to London that evening. Very few could know that, because he had not decided until the last moment...unless he was being followed by someone who was waiting for such an opportunity.

Yet who could hate him that much? Adam had suggested it might be his stepmother. Perhaps she believed that if he were dead her son would become Lord Frant. Yet the boy was already heir to everything of worth left in their father’s possession at his death. Paul was the one who might have borne a grudge but did not. So why would the dowager Lady Frant want him dead?

It made no sense. Indeed, if anything, she’d seemed apologetic when Paul had paid her a fleeting visit out of courtesy. She’d made it plain that she made no claim on him and he’d told her that he bore her and the boy no malice. Whatever his father had done, he had done, and that ended with his death.

Having lived so many years abroad, Paul could not think that any of the friends he’d made in the Army—or since his return—would want to harm him.

Was it something to do with India? Paul thought he might have made enemies there. He’d risen fast and gained a fortune, much of it by hard work but some because of what he’d done to help the young Prince escape his captors. Could it be something to do with that—perhaps one of the soldiers Adam had commanded had resented that Paul should receive so much more in reward than he or anyone else? Perhaps there was some truth in that point of view, though they had merely done their job, while he had risked his life with no thought of reward.

Paul had broken down the door of that burning hut and rescued the Prince at some cost to his person—but the soldiers had fought the tribesmen and some had been wounded. They should have received a reward for it and Paul was not certain how much of the two thousand gold coins paid to their captain had gone to the soldiers...

He frowned as his manservant eased him out of the tight coat he’d worn to the duchess’s ball. The bandage beneath showed a few spots of blood and the wound stung. Paul had lied when he said he was injured in the fall; he had taken the ball in his arm and the force had knocked him from the horse. Had the ball pierced his chest...but he would not dwell on such thoughts.

The assassin, for such he must have been, had not taken enough care with his aim and so Paul lived. Yet next time he might not be as lucky. He knew he must do something to protect himself—and he must employ an agent to discover the reason for the attack.

He felt the frustration of not being able to devote his mind to the woman who dominated his thoughts. Jane had looked so lovely and for a moment on the balcony he’d felt she’d invited his kiss—and then that woman, Lady Catherine, had intruded and the mood had been shattered. The spoiled beauty was a nuisance and had tried to pique his interest on more than one occasion but, like others of her ilk, she had failed—something that would displease her if she guessed it. Yet perhaps she’d done him an unwitting favour.

If Paul’s life were truly at risk, it meant he could not ask Jane to be his wife. She had suffered a terrible loss once; Paul would not wish her to suffer another. He would continue to be friendly, but a proposal of marriage was not to be thought of until he had discovered his enemy and could take the precautions necessary.

He was about to retire when someone knocked at his door.

‘It’s Adam. May I speak to you?’

‘Yes, of course. Come in,’ Paul said and picked up the glass of whisky his valet had poured for him.

‘I could not retire without enquiring how you were,’ Adam said, standing in the doorway, his golden locks dishevelled and in his shirtsleeves. ‘It was foolish to risk the wound opening again by dancing...’

‘I did not try to dance, but I saw Jane—and met some good friends. I do not think you know Major Harding? He served with me many years ago...before we met in India.’

‘I am glad you met friends,’ Adam said and hesitated, then, ‘but have a care, Paul. Someone meant to kill you last evening. You have an enemy, my friend—and it might be anyone...’

‘Yes, I’ve realised that,’ Paul said. He was about to confide his plans but thought better of it. ‘I cannot imagine who...but I am sure that ball was meant to wound or kill me.’

‘Had we not come along when we did...’ Adam shuddered. ‘We delayed to help a lady whose coachman had lost his way, and if we had been but a moment longer...I am certain he meant to finish you off as you lay there, but at the sight of us he made off into the trees.’

‘Yes, that was fortunate,’ Paul said and frowned. ‘What have I done that someone should wish to kill me, Adam?’

‘Men have many reasons to kill,’ Adam muttered and something in his eyes at that moment made Paul wonder if he still harboured resentment against him because of Annamarie. ‘Jealousy, anger...even resentment over a slighting word has been known to move a man to murder.’

‘Yes, I suppose, but I do not think my half-brother or his mother hate me that much... If he were older, but...’

‘An assassin works for a few coins in the hand,’ Adam said. ‘Do not look for reasons; accept that you are hated and watch your back, my friend.’

‘Yes, I shall.’ Paul grimaced and eased his shoulder. ‘Was your evening a good one?’

Adam laughed ruefully. ‘I think my luck resides in the turf rather than the tables. I lost five hundred guineas this evening, but I still have the funds we need for our venture. The day after tomorrow we leave for Ireland and I shall not gamble again before then so stand in no danger of losing what I have.’

‘You have not yet received the money from your lawyer, I think?’

‘No, but that will buy land and perhaps a house,’ Adam said. ‘I shall have that, whatever happens at the tables, Paul—for I shall not risk my land or the share in the future we plan together.’

‘I am glad of that,’ Paul replied with a lazy smile. ‘I should not like to lose my partner. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m for my bed.’

Adam laughed softly and went out, leaving Paul to his thoughts, which were neither clear nor pleasant as he crawled into bed and closed his eyes.

Chapter Ten

J
ane knew better than to visit her mama too early the next morning, but in the afternoon she drove to her house to take tea with her and found that several other ladies and gentlemen had formed the same intention. It was impossible to have a private word with Mama, but both Melia and Sarah found friends there and Melia seemed happier than she had the previous evening, when Captain Smythe and his sister Anne asked her to go walking with them in the park the following day.

Sarah also seemed lost in her thoughts as they drove home, though she answered when Jane spoke to her and discussed their plans for the evening, which were to dine quietly at home before joining a few friends for a trip to the theatre in the evening.

Jane enjoyed her evening, and when in the interval Major Harding entered their box she greeted him with a smile. His invitation to go riding the next day was accepted with pleasure and he spent the whole of the interval at her side.

Will had accompanied them that evening and he sat between Melia and Sarah, entertaining them both and providing ices and drinks in the various intervals for their pleasure. Melia was more talkative than she had been for a few days and Jane heard her agree to go riding with Will the next afternoon.

Jane watched her brother’s face as he turned from Melia to Sarah and asked her if she would like to ride with them. Sarah hesitated, and then said she would very much like it if a horse could be found for her. Will promised that he would see her mounted properly and Sarah smiled, and then the lights dimmed for the last act. Just before the lights lowered, Jane noticed that someone was watching them from below in the pits through a small pair of opera glasses.

For a moment she wondered who the gentleman was and why he stared so intently, but then he seemed to become aware that she had noticed and inclined his head, turning his attention to the stage. Jane was soon drawn into the performance and forgot him, though later that evening, before she retired, she mentioned it to her brother.

‘Did you notice that gentleman in the pits?’ she asked. ‘He seemed to be very interested in us...I suppose you did not notice him?’

‘No, I cannot say I did,’ Will said and smiled. ‘You are a lovely young woman still, Jane. I am sure a great many gentlemen stare at you, dearest—and it might have been Sarah or Melia who was attracting his attention.’

‘Yes, very likely,’ Jane said, but she was still uneasy. The man had been staring at her—and something in his manner had struck her as being odd. Yet perhaps Will was right and she was making too much of it.

Jane was soon asleep and no dreams came to disturb her rest. In the morning she decided she would visit one or two of the furniture makers’ warehouses and see if she could find the missing items needed for Lord Frant’s house. Both Melia and Sarah were engaged to friends so she would go alone...

* * *

As she left the second of the two cabinet makers’ establishments feeling pleased with the purchase of several pieces, Jane stood for a moment in the side street and took stock. A cab had brought her here and she would need to find one to take her home. Had she realised the warehouse was as secluded as this, she would have brought her own carriage, but she’d expected it would be within easy reach of the showrooms. She believed that Lord Frant would be well pleased with the items she had purchased on his behalf, and there was no need for her to look further for the moment.

Ready to go home, she decided that she would return to the warehouse and ask if someone could summon a cab for her. As she turned, Jane was suddenly accosted by a man she’d never seen in her life. He was dressed in a brown coat and breeches with a dark hat pulled down low over his brow and the hand he placed on her arm was not quite clean about the fingernails.

‘I reckon yer be the one I be lookin’ for,’ he grunted and thrust his face closer so that she could smell the sour odour of his breath. ‘I’ve been told to warn yer that my mistress will have a reckoning if you continue your pursuit of her man. If you know what’s good for yer, yer’ll go home and forget him...’

‘What are you taking about?’ Jane suppressed the trickle of fear that ran through her. ‘I have no idea who your mistress is—or her man...’

The brute pressed his face closer to Jane’s. ‘I reckon yer knows, all right. It ain’t no use playin’ the innocent with Pyke. I’m warnin’ yer, and if yer ignore me warnin’ yer’ll be sorry.’

Jane wrested her arm from his grasp but he grabbed at her again and threatened her with his fist.

‘Hey, you!’ a man’s voice cried. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Unhand that lady at once or I’ll make you sorry you were born...’

Instantly, the man ran off down the street and she turned to find herself face to face with the gentleman she’d seen watching her from the pits at the theatre the previous evening.

‘Sir,’ Jane said, breathing deeply to steady her nerves, ‘I must thank you for scaring off that brute.’

‘Was he after money?’ he asked and looked at her in a puzzled manner. ‘You are Lady March, are you not? A friend pointed you out to me last evening at the theatre...’

‘You were staring at me through your opera glasses,’ Jane said after a moment. Her fright had subsided now and she was angry. ‘Did you arrange this incident...to gain my favour?’

‘You wrong me,’ he said and smiled oddly. ‘I was not privy to your intention to visit the warehouses of Master Morrison. I came only to complete a purchase myself.’ He tipped his hat. ‘Excuse me; I shall not impose on you a moment longer...’

‘No, please, stay,’ Jane said, realising that she had been rude. ‘I was shocked by that rogue’s attack—and it seemed so odd that you should stare at me last evening...’

He laughed softly, his teeth gleaming against skin that had obviously been exposed to the sun often. ‘Does it surprise you that beauty such as yours should attract attention? Yet you asked me to tarry—may I be of some assistance?’

‘I came here by cab and need to summon another but I am not sure where to find one...’

‘You will not find one here, my lady,’ he said and inclined his head. ‘Captain Richard Hershaw at your service. My carriage waits for me. I shall instruct my driver to take you home...’

‘Oh, no, I could not impose on you,’ Jane said at once. ‘The warehouse manager will know where to hire a cab for me. I should have retained the last one but was not sure how long my business would take me.’

‘I would have thought it safer for a lady of your standing to come accompanied by your servants in your own carriage,’ Captain Hershaw said, a smile flickering in his eyes. ‘Yet I know that some ladies are of an independent mind and I understand that sometimes you may wish to be alone. Please, take my carriage. I am well able to find my own way home.’

Jane hesitated for a moment and then thanked him. ‘You are kind, sir—and I have not been polite...’

‘Give me your address and I shall instruct my man,’ he said and walked over to the carriage. Jane followed and was helped inside. Captain Hershaw doffed his hat to her and the carriage moved off.

She watched from the window and saw her rescuer walk into the warehouse. Leaning back against the squabs of the comfortable carriage, Jane closed her eyes for a moment. The small incident had alarmed her, but she would have been foolish to refuse the offer of a man who was obviously a gentleman.

For a few moments wild ideas that he might have been trying to kidnap her ran through her mind and she wondered if she had been a fool to step willingly into his carriage, but they vanished as swiftly as they came. Some half an hour later, when the carriage stopped outside her brother’s house, Jane realised that she had indeed mistaken Captain Hershaw’s intentions.

Of course he had not planned to rescue her from that brute or yet to kidnap her. It was, as he said, a coincidence that he had happened along at the right moment...and yet something lingered at the back of her mind, a suspicion that she was being duped in some way. She could not fathom the purpose if it had all been arranged, for had he wished to abduct her the opportunity had been his—so why did she feel it would be foolish to trust Captain Hershaw too much?

* * *

Caught up in the busy social whirl, Jane forgot the unpleasant incident at the warehouse over the next few days. She told no one that she’d been threatened, nor did she say anything of Captain Hershaw. When she found his calling card with the others in the hall, Jane made no mention of it. However, when her brother told her that he’d added the captain’s name to the list of guests they had invited to a musical evening, she asked him who the gentleman was and how Will came to know him.

‘Hershaw?’ Will wrinkled his brow. ‘He was introduced to me by a friend last evening at my club. I won five hundred guineas from him, Jane—so I thought the least I could do was invite him to dinner to make up for it.’

‘I did not think you gambled for high stakes?’

‘I do not often. It was a game of piquet. Although I seldom play for more than a few guineas, Hershaw suggested the stakes and I felt obliged to agree.’

‘I should not make a habit of it,’ Jane advised.

‘Have you heard something against the man? I did not think you knew him.’

‘We have met but once somewhere,’ Jane said. ‘I know nothing ill of him—but I would not trust him too far, Will.’

‘I am not a gambler, my love,’ Will said, ‘but I must offer the man a chance to regain his losses—it is a matter of honour, dearest one.’

‘Yes, I know...’ Jane sighed for she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. She feared that Captain Hershaw meant them no good but could not put her fears into words, for there was no reason behind her distrust—and Will would laugh if she said it was her womanly instinct.

Jane wished that Lord Frant was in London. She could have asked him for his opinion and knew he would take her concerns seriously. How long did he intend to stay in Ireland? she wondered, and wished that she’d asked him, but their last meeting had been brief and she had not liked to press him. Jane had no claim on Lord Frant...but she would feel so much happier when he was home again.

Melia had taken to going out with Miss Anne Smythe and her brother Captain Smythe, the godson of Sir Henry Clarke. They called for her in the mornings to go riding or shopping, and in the afternoon she was invited to tea at their house. Jane, her brother, Sarah and Melia were invited to dine for cards and music, and during the evening Lady Clarke spoke to Jane about her ward.

‘I believe you are dear Melia’s chaperon. You know her guardian well I understand?’

‘Yes, I know Lord Frant—and her aunt, Mrs Bellingham.’

‘I was wondering if she had a dowry?’ the lady said frankly. ‘My husband’s godson and heir is quite taken with her and I believe her to be of good family.’

‘I know nothing ill of her family,’ Jane said. ‘I understand her guardian settled a sum of money on her, but I am not at liberty to disclose it...’

‘No, of course not. I should not dream of asking. Of course my godson thinks it of no concern—but we like to do our best for our dear ones, do we not?’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Jane said. ‘Has Melia shown a particular interest in your godson?’

‘Has she said nothing of it to you?’ The lady sounded surprised. ‘They are forever in each other’s company. I thought you would have remarked it.’

Jane shook her head. She’d seen Melia departing with her new friends but had given little thought to it, but if the girl had thoughts of marriage...surely she could not be so changeable? It was only a matter of weeks since she’d declared herself madly in love with Viscount Hargreaves. Had she given up all thought of him since he’d neglected to keep his promise and attend the duchess’s ball?

Jane turned the conversation. She was not Melia’s guardian, merely her chaperon for a short time—and she almost wished that she had never agreed to bring the girl to town. Will would be hurt if she turned her attentions to the young captain. He must be feeling that Melia preferred almost anyone rather than he, and that must be hard to bear.

Jane did not feel able to remonstrate with her guest. She did not wish to tell Melia where to bestow her affections. Indeed, if she were so shallow, it might be best if she married someone else. Will would be hurt but he would recover—if she married him and then turned her affections elsewhere it must be far worse. Better that his eyes should be opened to her failings now.

Although she said nothing to Melia, Jane spoke to her brother the next morning. She had come down to breakfast early, as she often did, and found him already in the parlour. From his dress, he had been riding and returned with a good appetite.

‘Ah, I see you have been out already. I have agreed to go riding with Major Harding later—and I believe Sarah has promised Mama that she will call on her. I am not sure of Melia’s intentions...’

‘I understand she goes for a drive and then takes luncheon at the house of Sir Henry and Lady Clarke. Sir Henry is Captain Smythe’s godfather...’

‘We dined there last evening... It seems a little excessive to spend so much time in their company.’

‘I dare say Melia has her reasons...’

‘Will, dearest,’ Jane said, looking at him in concern. ‘His godmother asked me about her prospects last night...’

‘Am I to wish her happy then?’ A flicker of regret showed in his eyes. ‘I suspected as much when I saw the way he looked at her—he is besotted with her and, since he has his own fortune, I doubt his godmother will sway him against her.’

‘I am not sure she wished to—and it matters very little to me. It is you I am concerned for,’ Jane said. ‘I think Melia unkind to treat you so ill...’

‘She is in love with Hargreaves,’ Will said bleakly. ‘I asked her and she confessed it was so—but he will not marry her because she does not have enough fortune...’

‘Your fortune is surely large enough to satisfy her?’

‘You are wrong, Melia,’ Will said. ‘She told me that she was sorry but she could not offer me her heart and so would not marry me...because she likes me too well. I think she intends to marry John Smythe because he adores her and will not question her. Yet if Hargreaves were to offer, she would abandon all others...’