The Maiden At Midnight (14 page)

‘I don’t see what you can do about the
competition,’ he said, matter-of-fact himself. ‘That’s been the
problem from the start. It’s deuced hard to get the girl alone,
especially as the aunt holds Joss in distaste.’

‘I wish I knew why.’

‘I daresay Joss does as well. Not that it
matters. The woman gets no say in the distribution of the estate.
She cannot use the girl’s money to prevent her marrying where she
will.’

Isabella sighed. ‘Isn’t it wretched how
everything comes down to money?’

‘I suppose so. How much are you looking for
in a husband?’

‘I hadn’t really thought about it. I
suppose… somewhere between five and ten thousand a year would
do.’

Harry gave a low whistle. ‘You don’t ask for
much!’

Isabella gave him an anxious sideways
glance. ‘You think it too much? I confess, I have not done the
figures. The sale of all of the properties paid the bulk of Papa’s
debts but of course there were death duties. We have a cottage just
outside of Andover but it needs some work for the roof leaks and as
for the chimneys… And of course there is Audrey and Millie to
consider. I will need enough to settle a decent dowry on both of
them. And then, I would want to hire some more servants for Mama.
She has been doing too much and she is not nearly strong enough.’
Isabella chewed her bottom lip and Harry watched, fascinated, ‘I
suppose I am aiming a little to high. We could probably manage with
three to five thousand. Anything else would be just greedy.’

‘That’s very… sensible of you.’ He tried not
to sound like he were strangling. He could not recall ever having a
conversation as bizarre as this one. Coupled with the unexpected
effect she was having on his body and Harry Carstairs felt an
unaccustomed sense of being out of his depth.

He must have sounded peculiar because she
turned to him, exasperated. ‘I know you think me absurd but you
might as well make yourself useful. Yes, I am a shocking rattle,
discussing how much money I need to gain from a marriage but under
the circumstances I must be practical.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…’ he moved
back a little, putting some space between them. Perhaps it was
merely the effect of being in close proximity to the girl but he
found that she turned his thoughts around in the most disturbing
manner. ‘I don’t often have these kinds of conversations. Frankly,
I’m not sure what to say.’

She nodded and he heard a sigh. ‘I suppose
not. It is so very difficult sometimes, not being able to talk
freely.’

‘I don’t think you suffer from that problem
at all!’

The spark came back to her eyes. ‘Is that
so? Well, if I am a little too frank for you, Mr. Carstairs, you
can always go away, now can’t you?’

‘And miss all this entertainment? I hardly
thinks so.’

With that, both of them turned their
attention back to those around them. Things had degenerated a
little, while they were occupied. Horsley had managed to insinuate
himself in prime position next to Alora and was clearly intent on
capturing her full attention while Elise Fortnum looked on
approvingly. Joss was sitting back, looking unhappy although Millie
sat on his other side, prattling away with enthusiasm.

‘It seems that Horsley has taken the field,’
Harry said with a frown.

‘I think not,’ Isabella returned crisply.
She took the gloves that had been laying on her lap and tucked them
into her reticule. Gathering her skirts together, she managed to
rise to her feet with impressive grace, considering her prone
position on the blanket. Carstairs made haste to rise as well,
unable to remain seated when his conversational partner – if you
could call her such – had elected to rise. Ideally he should have
helped her up but Isabella Hathaway clearly needed no help from
him.

Stretching elaborately, she looked around
her for a moment, then frowned. ‘Oh dear, I do believe I have lost
my gloves. Mama?’ The word brought her mother’s head around,
interrupting her conversation with Lady Herbert who had, like so
many others, gravitated towards the swelling group. Until Isabella
had risen to her feet, she had not realized that they had become
quite the crowd scene. At least fifteen people had joined their
party and Millie was having a delightful time, observing them all
as she fluttered through the groups like an inquisitive butterfly.
Clearly, the youngest Miss Hathaway did not get out nearly as much
as she should.

‘Yes, my dear?’

‘I cannot find my gloves. Have you seen
them?’

Her mother looked around vaguely. ‘I do not
think I have.’

‘Hmm,’ Isabella tilted her head
thoughtfully, ‘do you know, I believe I might have laid them down
on that little pier when we came off the punt? Mr. Horsley?’

Peregrine Horsley, who had just made a pithy
conversational gambit with Miss Piedmont, looked up, startled.

‘Miss Hathaway?’

‘Would you accompany me to find my gloves? I
believe I left them by that pier over there.’

Sir Peregrine gave her a confused look; as
well he might. They were barely acquainted, after all. Not only
that but there were at least five able bodied men around, including
Mr. Carstairs who was practically standing beside her, who might
have offered their services. Indeed, several stepped forward in
eager anticipation for, while Miss Hathaway might not have Miss
Piedmont’s financial attributes, she was an exceptionally pretty
girl. But she had asked Mr. Horsley and, as such, he had no choice
but to make his apologies and rose to his feet with as good a grace
as he could muster.

‘I would, of course, be delighted to be of
assistance.’

Isabella gave him a smile of singular
sweetness. Now that she was orchestrating somebody else’s romance,
she did not feel nearly as constrained as she had. And with the
Earl of Stornley actively engaged in finding her a suitable
husband, she felt confident she need not pretend to be mute any
longer. ‘Thank you. Millie… walk with us?’

The proprieties observed, the three of them
strolled off towards the pier, leaving the field wide open again.
Stornley did not let the grass grow under his feet but maneuvered
himself into position again with alacrity, much to Miss Fortnum’s
displeasure.

Harry watched this
audacious behavior without any real surprise. It had already struck
him forcefully that Isabella Hathaway was no retiring flower that
was content to linger on the sidelines. Clearly, she was a girl
determined to stick to her part of this ridiculous bargain. He
suspected that Stornley
would
marry Alora Piedmont if Isabella had anything to
do with it.

Which meant it was up to he and Joss to
fulfill the earl’s promise. He glanced at the gentlemen that were
milling around, al fresco, pleased to have found such a pleasant
gathering so unexpectedly.

Lord Bishop, a young dandy who spent an
inordinate amount of time listening to his tailor if the elevated
shoulders of his jacket and absurdly high shirt collar was anything
to go by. He was worth around four thousand a year, much of which
would surely go on that excruciating wardrobe. He tried very hard
to follow Lord Byron’s look and failed lamentably, thanks to a
roly-poly figure that did not lend itself to the fashion of the
Young Corsairs. Suitable husband material for Isabella Hathaway?
Harry could not imagine it. She required something with a little
more substance, surely.

Like… James Ogilvie, who had turned to watch
Isabella Hathaway as she walked with Mr. Horsley? Now he was a
man’s man, a buck of the first stare who was, rumor had it, worth
at least five thousand a year. He kept an excellent stable and was
a first-rate shot. Of course, he spent two nights out of three in
any boozing-ken he rolled in to – a fact that Harry himself could
attest to as he himself had been known to shoot the cat with the
man on several memorable occasions – but did that matter? Eyeing
the physically excellent specimen that was James Ogilvie, Harry
decided that it did. He might not know a great deal about
relationships but he was almost certain that a female did not care
for a man to be seriously drunk most evenings.

Actually, glancing around the selection of
what was on offer, Harry decided that none of them would do. Some
had money, some did not, but if that aside, it was all too easy to
discover reasons why the assembled gentlemen fell short as a
suitor.

Clearly he and Joss needed to sit down and
work out the best way to approach this. They had already made a
list, which they had argued about at length. When Harry returned
home he would take another look at it for clearly, he had more
information now having spent some time in conversation with Miss
Hathaway.

She did not need
just
any
man.
Isabella Hathaway needed a Titan at the very least, somebody who
could contain all of that impetuosity. It was, he decided, a tall
order.

No, he thought doubtfully.
Finding a husband for the girl was
not
going to be easy.

‘I think she likes me!’ Stornley had been in
an absurdly good mood since leaving the party in the gardens. He
had said, in varying ways, those very words at least five
times.

Harry drew a deep, sustaining breath. ‘I
know she likes you. Now shut up about it!’

This brought the earl down from the cloud he
had been floating on, but clearly, his feet had not quite touched
the earth yet. ‘I am talking about it too much?’

‘It’s all relative, Joss. Compared to a
female finishing school you are positively mute but in terms of
passing conversation, you won’t shut up.’

Joss grinned. ‘You’re just irked because
Isabella sparred with you again. But was she not brilliant, the way
she got rid of Horsley?’

Harry nodded reluctantly. It had been a
masterful move, there was no doubt about it. ‘She is certainly an
original.’

‘She’s marvelous. Alora was singing her
praises.’

‘Are we up to first names now, are we?’

‘I can call Miss Piedmont whatever I wish in
my head.’

‘Good God,’ Harry sounded disgusted, ‘this
from the man who once bed two sisters at the same time!’

‘That was in Italy. Everybody knows that
Italian girls are very accommodating so it does not count. I am a
changed man, Harry. I want nothing more than to settle down with
Miss Piedmont and spend the rest of my life staring into those
wondrous blue eyes.’

‘I feel ill.’ Harry looked around him,
realizing that he had been allowing his friend to lead the way.
‘Where are we going?’

‘I need to get a few things from my place.’
They had turned the corner of Curzon Street and were heading
towards the earl’s townhouse. ‘There’s a book on botany with some
excellent pictures that I wish to loan Alora.’

‘But are you not staying away from your
house due to the fact that there are dunsmen after you?’

Joss’s feet slowed for a moment, before he
started walking again. ‘It will be all right. We will go around the
back.’

‘If you say so, but it would pay to be
particularly careful. You should have just sent for the book.’

‘Never thought of it,’ Joss confessed. ‘But
honestly, how likely is it that the man will be watching my place
all the time?’

Harry did not answer, but he thought it was
quite likely that was exactly what Gallows Jack would be doing.
Joss was in the red to a very unsavory character. There were no
prizes for guessing how he came by the delightful moniker of
Gallows Jack, as he had a reputation for making those who would not
pay either very dead or very sorry. Rumor had it that he had killed
more men than the popular structure at Tyburn had several hundred
years before. He had the refreshingly French viewpoint that the
nobility should pay their debts in much the same way as the common
folk, only with interest added. As Joss was in a hole to him to the
tune of six hundred pounds, Gallows Jack was particularly keen on
having a conversation, which was why his lordship had decided to
stay with Harry for the time being.

Joss led the way to the rear of his
property, letting himself in through the scullery door, thereby
startling a maid who dropped a pail at the sight of him.

‘M’lord!’ she gasped, clutching her
throat.

Joss smiled at her kindly. ‘Sorry,
Bess.’

‘I thought you was those men, coming
back.’

Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘Men?’

‘Yesterday. Just walked in,
bold as brass they did even though Mr. Henderson told them to
scarper.’ Bess was a kitchen maid, but the Earl of Stornley was
young and did not stand on formality. He knew all of his servants
by first name, with the exception of his housekeeper, Mrs. Maudsley
and his butler, Henderson. Like all really
good
servants, they probably didn’t
have first names.

Joss was frowning. ‘Is everybody all
right?’

‘Yessir. Mrs. M gave them an earful. Not
before they looked through the house, mind. They was looking for
you.’ She added unnecessarily.

Harry and Joss stared at each other.

‘Not good, Joss.’

‘No.’

‘Get the book and let’s go. It’s as likely
they’ll be back.’

‘I don’t like to leave my
people to face them alone,’ Joss was indignant, ‘I mean, that’s
breaking in to a house, man! That’s
illegal
.’

‘You think the magistrate is going to pay a
call on the man responsible?’ Harry demanded impatiently. He
glanced at Bess who was listening to this with interest. ‘If they
return, send somebody for a member of the Watch. That’ll get rid of
them, if nothing else will.’

‘I need to go and see Jack -’ Joss
began.

‘The hell you do!’ Harry gripped his
friend’s arm tightly. ‘Must I remind you what happened to
Struthers?’