The Fortune Hunter (5 page)

Uneasily, Nerissa said, “I wish to speak to you of Hadfield.”

“Oh?” Cole picked up the newspaper which had been folded in the middle of the table. When he opened it, his voice was muffled by the pages. “Is there a problem?”

“He is being more unbearable than usual,” she said as she picked up the Pontypool japanned iron coffeepot. Even the bright flowers painted on its side could not bring her out of the dismals. “Cole, if you want my opinion—”

“You know I am always interested in your opinions.”

She pulled down the newspaper. When he regarded her in surprise, his toast halfway to his mouth, she said, “We should give Hadfield the bag.”

“Dismiss him?” he gasped, sitting straighter. “Hadfield has given years of service to this family. He was my father's closest confidant. How could you suggest we give him his
congé?
”

“I'm tired of his malicious display toward me and toward anyone who calls to see me. Just last week he kept Annis waiting in the foyer for close to a half hour before he announced her.”

He smiled and folded his arms on the table. “Nerissa, you know Annis is given to exaggeration.”

“Even if he allowed her to wait for five minutes, that is unacceptable.”

“I shall speak to him. Will that be satisfactory?”

Nerissa hesitated, then nodded. Even if Cole remembered to reprimand Hadfield, which was as unlikely as snow on a Bath summer morning, the butler would not change his ways. As she stirred sugar into her coffee, being careful not to splatter it on her sling, she decided, that until she was herself again, it was just as well Cole would forget to reprimand the butler, for that would make the situation worse.

If it could get worse.

The afternoon warmth crept into the sitting room as Nerissa read a book of her favorite poetry. Her feet were propped on a footstool. Only by promising Frye she would read quietly had she convinced the abigail to stop flitting in and out of the room like an oversized moth. Quiet was the best prescription for her throbbing head, and she could not achieve it when her maid buzzed about her.

A knock on the door jarred through her skull, but she called for the person to enter. When she saw the butler, her lips tightened. She did not feel ready to fly out at Hadfield, although she knew the confrontation was inevitable. Just not today, she hoped.

“A gentleman named Windham is here to see you, miss,” Hadfield said quietly.

Nerissa almost gasped aloud at her odd reaction to the announcement that Lord Windham was calling. Her fingers were trembling so hard she had to set the book on a table. Her heart was thumping so loud she feared the butler would hear it. Why was
he
here? She had thought Lord Windham was out of her life. She had thought she was glad to be rid of him and his antics, but that failed to explain her sudden flush of pleasure at his call.

She smoothed her pale pink skirt as she stood. The ribbons at the high bodice fluttered around her like capricious butterflies. “Windham?”

“Mr. Philip Windham was the name he gave.”

“Please show him in. And, Hadfield, ask Frye to join us.” Nerissa sighed as she watched the butler leave. She had been a perfect blockhead to think the viscount would call on her. Even in the midst of her blurred memories of the previous day, she could not help recalling how delighted Lord Windham had been to climb onto his horse and ride away.

Not that she could blame him, for she had been beastly to refuse his assistance as if he had been a leper. With her head clearer today, she realized she would be wise to express her gratitude to Mr. Windham and hope he would convey the message to his brother. Then the episode certainly would be at an end … as she wanted. Yet, if that was so, she couldn't understand why that idea distressed her.

When Mrs. Carroll, rather than Hadfield, opened the door for Mr. Windham, Nerissa swallowed her outrage that Hadfield was neglecting his duties again. The butler was more interested in giving a bottle of liquor a black eye and sharing gossip with the kitchen maids. She should not delay another day convincing Cole to fire the butler. She doubted her pleas would do much good, though. She would get the same noncommittal answer she had received each time she broached the subject.

She put the butler from her head as Mr. Windham crossed the room. His clothes were more formal than the ones he had worn while riding the previous afternoon. With a black coat that announced its excellent tailor by its stylish lines and a red striped waistcoat clashing with his ginger hackles, he wore a sedate shirt and tan breeches. A hint of lace appeared at his wide cuffs when he took the hand she held out to him.

“Miss Dufresne,” he said, shaking her hand with gracious gentleness, “I trust you'll forgive this unannounced intrusion. I only wish to reassure myself that you are well.”

Motioning for him to sit on the chair next to where she had been reading, she smiled. “You are beyond kindness, Mr. Windham. I can tell you I feel much better than I did yesterday evening.”

“Have you seen a doctor?” He grinned as he looked at the lacy sling she wore. He wiped the smile from his face, replacing it with the guilty expression of a naughty lad.

“It isn't necessary.”

Mr. Windham cleared his throat, betraying his disquiet. “Don't think me without manners to discuss such a matter when we are little more than the slightest of acquaintances, but I want you to know that my brother and I will be glad to assume any bills you might incur from this unspeakable incident.”

“You're generous, Mr. Windham, but I am not a nip cheese.”

“I didn't mean to suggest that.”

“Of course, you didn't.” Nerissa wondered if he was always so eager to apologize for everything he said and did. It made conversation difficult. “I wouldn't begrudge myself the company of a physician if I had needed one. There is nothing a doctor could do for my buffeted head, and my household has taken it upon themselves to see I shall do nothing with my left arm until it is healed to
their
satisfaction. You needn't worry about me.”

“Alas, Miss Dufresne, your words only convince me that we have been beneath reproach.” He sat where she had indicated, but appeared stiffly uncomfortable. “I know my brother is as distressed about this unfortunate incident as I am. I should have waited for Hamilton to return to Queen Square so we could both look in on you, but I was too anxious to soothe my conscience.”

Nerissa smiled dutifully, but she believed Mr. Windham's words no more than he did. Lord Windham probably had dismissed her from his mind as soon as he left Laura Place. That the brothers resided on the finest street in the city was no astounding revelation. They wore their wealth and prestige with an indifference that came from possessing both all their lives.

“Mr. Windham, there was no need for anyone to call with an apology. Both you and his lordship were quite profuse yesterday.” Sitting, she tried to ignore the sitting room's frayed furniture. She noticed it only as she saw Mr. Windham glance around the room. No doubt, he was unaccustomed to such shabbiness, but this was her home. She wouldn't have traded it for anything … but Hill's End. Grief smothered her at the thought of losing the only home she'd known before this one. Her chin raised as she silenced her misery. “I trust now that you have seen me, you can be satisfied I don't intend to cock up my toes.”

He gave her a tentative smile. “If I may be so bold, may I say you look very lovely, Miss Dufresne?”

“A surprise on your part, I am certain. I looked a complete florence yesterday.” Nerissa laughed, hoping to put the nervous young man at ease. “I am never at my best with a dirty face and scratched elbows.” When he frowned, she hurried to add, “Mr. Windham, please allow me to change the subject to a topic you will find more comfortable. We cannot alter the past, so why should we dwell upon it?”

“If that's your wish.”

“It is.”

Taking a deep breath, the red-haired man nodded. He clasped and unclasped his fingers. Silence clamped around them. Every tick of the mantel clock seemed too loud.

Finally, after what Nerissa feared was an eternity, Mr. Windham asked, “Have you been in Bath long?”

“A few months. I came here to live with my brother.” Nerissa glanced toward the foyer, but, as she should have guessed, Cole's book-room door remained closed. With his students gone for the day, he must be lost, as usual, in his studies. Rather than tell Mr. Windham the truth—for he might think her unmannered not to call her brother out to be introduced—she said, “I hope you will have the opportunity to meet him someday.”

“I hope so, too, for, if I may be so presumptuous, I hope you will welcome me calling here again.”

Nerissa found it easier to smile. “I would be delighted to have you call whenever you might be in Laura Place. I am at home Wednesday afternoons.”

“Then I shall look forward to Wednesday next.” Rising, he reached for her hand. Instead of shaking it, he began to lift it toward his lips.

Nerissa had no chance to react to his surprising boldness, for he froze as the door opened after a cursory knock. She was about to chastise Hadfield, but the words vanished, unuttered, as she stared past Mr. Windham to meet grey eyes that twinkled with mocking amusement.

Lord Windham handed Mrs. Carroll his hat and leather gloves. The housekeeper glanced from the viscount to Nerissa, and Nerissa knew her disquiet could not be hidden. Tempted to ask Mrs. Carroll to find Frye and send her to the sitting room, Nerissa remained silent. She could not air her domestic problems before her guests. She wondered what other orders Hadfield had ignored. If only Cole would chastise the impertinent butler! Surely Hadfield would listen to him. But that was unlikely to happen. Cole liked nothing to disturb the serenity in his house, so he would allow the situation to drift along unchanged while he clung to the comfort of his books.

And Nerissa didn't have time to worry about the butler when she was receiving both Windham brothers. She must keep her wits about her if she wanted to be a good hostess and hide the pleasure that had filled her at Lord Windham's arrival.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Nerissa said as she started to rise.

“Please remain seated, Miss Dufresne. I didn't call to disturb your recuperation,” he answered in his warm voice that resounded through her like the tolling of a distant church bell.

As his smile swept the iciness from his eyes, Nerissa struggled to still her heart. When Lord Windham turned to his brother, she guessed the viscount did not share the unsettling, but decidedly delightful feeling within her. That thought troubled her more. Had the bump to her head unhinged her brain? She should care little about Lord Windham's sentiments. Standing, for she did not want to be put at a disadvantage by the viscount's impressive height, Nerissa kept a cautious hand on the chair.

“I thought I would find you here, Philip,” Lord Windham said. “Have you forgotten the meeting you were supposed to have had at the King's Pump Room nearly an hour ago?”

“The King's Pump Room? Fudge!” Mr. Windham's face bared his astonishment, then his dismay. With an expression that belonged to a chagrined child, he bowed his head toward Nerissa. “Please excuse me, Miss Dufresne. I must go and make my apologies to …” Color rose brighter along his face. Again he dipped his head toward her before hurrying out of the room.

A low laugh rumbled over the closing of the door. She looked at Lord Windham. He put his hands in his trousers' pockets as he walked toward her. The motion pushed back the tails of his dark green double-breasted jacket which was open to reveal his silk waistcoat. A fall of lace dropped from his high collar and the perfectly tied white stock which accented the healthy color of his skin. Sunlight glinted off the gold buttons on his wide cuffs and along the front of his coat. His steps were effortless, and she imagined him as a primeval hunter stalking his prey. Stalking her?

Angry at her peculiar fancy, she said, “I did not expect a call from you, too, my lord.”

“Forgive the pup, Miss Dufresne,” Lord Windham said, as if she had not spoken, “for his lack of manners.”

“I find Mr. Windham to be extraordinarily polite.”

“Do you?” He paused too near to her.

Nerissa felt overmastered by his height and the breadth of his shoulders which eclipsed the doorway. Telling herself not to be a complete chucklehead, for Lord Windham would be delighted to put her out of curl, she gestured toward the chair where his brother had been sitting.

“Are you asking me to remain, Miss Dufresne?”

“Unless you, too, have a meeting.”

“Regrettably, I do, but not for an hour. May I enjoy your company until then?”

“I would appreciate the chance to thank you properly.”

“Deuce take it,” he said as he motioned for her to sit. When she had, he followed suit. “You are going to stop thanking me for what was without question all my doing, aren't you? I daresay you would thank the hangman for finding a fine choker to set about your neck.”

Nerissa frowned at his odd words. This viscount was acting like a rough diamond. “I doubt I would find myself in such a predicament.”

He chuckled. “You think I'm a ramshackle fellow when I am only speaking plainly. If it makes you feel better, I accept your gratitude, if you'll accept my apology. Then we shall be done with this accursed happening.”

Nerissa smiled in spite of herself. She need not be concerned about an unsteady conversation with this dark-haired man. The glint in his eyes suggested he was a flash at gab, even as it warned her that she must watch each word she chose.

“Ah, a smile. That is much more to the purpose,” Lord Windham said. Crossing one brightly shined boot over the knee of his trousers, he leaned back as if she had invited him to run tame through her home. Suddenly he reached toward her and gripped her chin. Tilting her face, he cursed lowly. “I see you have fallen down and trodden upon your eye. This is odd. I must own, although I have landed a few facers in my youth, I never have given a lady a black eye.”