by Amanda Quick
“Is something wrong, Harry?”
“My apologies, Augusta.” His voice was gruff. “I had no right to take advantage of you tonight. I do not know what happened to my self-control. You deserved a proper bed and all the trappings of a honeymoon for your first experience of lovemaking.”
“Do not fret about it, sir. To tell you the truth, this was a rather exciting way to begin the whole business.” She pushed aside the curtain that covered the window and gazed out into the street. “I wonder how many of those other carriages out there contain couples doing exactly what we were just doing?”
“One shudders to even contemplate the notion.” Harry shoved open the trapdoor in the roof with his ebony walking stick. “Scruggs, take us back to Lady Arbuthnott’s immediately.”
“About time,” Scruggs growled from the box. “Left it a bit late, didn’t you, sir?”
Harry did not bother to respond. He let the trap close with a loud crack. Then he sat facing Augusta in silence for a long moment. “I cannot believe I have just made love to my fiancée in a carriage in the middle of a London street.”
“Poor Harry.” Augusta studied the strange expression on his hard face. “I suppose you will find this very difficult to reconcile with your fine notion of propriety, will you not, my lord?”
“Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Miss Ballinger?”
“No, my lord. I would not dream of doing so.” She struggled to conceal the grin that was tugging at her mouth. She wondered why she felt so lighthearted and happy after such an astounding event.
Harry swore softly. “I begin to believe that if I am not extremely careful, you will be an exceedingly bad influence on me, Augusta.”
“I shall certainly try my best, sir,” she murmured. Then she sobered. “But about this matter of being married by special license, I really do not feel it is necessary to do anything quite so drastic, Harry.”
“No?” His brows rose. “Well, I do. And that is all there is to it. I shall notify you tomorrow of the time and place. And I shall speak to your uncle and explain that there is no choice now.”
“But that’s just it, Harry. There is a choice. I am in no great rush. And marriage is so very permanent, is it not? I want you to be quite certain of what you are doing, my lord.”
“You mean you are still having qualms.”
She bit her lip. “I did not say that precisely.”
“You do not need to say it. You have been dragging your feet about our engagement right from the start. But now matters have gone too far and neither of us has any honorable alternative but to proceed with the wedding as quickly as possible.”
A jolt of fear went through Augusta. “I hope you are not going through with this because you feel you must do the right thing, my lord. I realize you are very touchy about matters having to do with respectability and propriety, but there really is no need for such haste.”
“Do not be a goose, Augusta. There is every need to hurry along this marriage. You might even now be pregnant.”
Her eyes widened. “Dear heaven, I had not thought of that.” Which only goes to show what chaos my mind is in tonight, she thought. I might be pregnant. With Harry’s baby. Instinctively she touched her stomach with protective fingers.
Harry’s gaze followed her hand. He smiled. “Obviously that possibility had slipped your mind.”
“We could wait awhile and be certain,” she ventured.
“We are not going to wait a day longer than necessary.”
She heard the unyielding note in his voice and knew that further argument was useless. She was not even certain she wanted further discussion. She did not know what she wanted just then.
What would it be like to have Harry’s baby?
Augusta sat tense and quiet until the carriage arrived at Lady Arbuthnott’s residence.
When they alighted, Augusta turned to Harry one last time. “My lord, it is not too late to reconsider. Pray, do not make any decisions until the morrow. You may feel differently then.”
“I shall be too busy arranging for a special license and taking care of certain matters tomorrow to do any reconsidering,” he informed her. “Come, I will escort you through the garden to a door at the back of the house. You can change your clothing in one of Sally’s bedchambers and then she will send you home in her carriage along with a companion.”
“What do you mean, you will be too busy tomorrow?” she demanded as he hurried her toward the back door of the house. “What are you going to do tomorrow besides arrange for the special license?”
“I plan to pay a call on Lovejoy, among other things. Please try to move a little more quickly, Augusta. It makes me very uneasy being out here in the open with you dressed like that.”
But Augusta suddenly dug in her booted heels and came to a complete halt. “Lovejoy? What the devil do you mean, you’re going to pay a call on him?” She reached up and grasped the lapels of his coat. “Harry, you are not going to do something extremely foolish like challenge him to a duel, are you?”
He looked down at her, eyes unreadable in the shadows. “You find that notion foolish?”
“Good lord, yes. Excessively foolish. Out of the question. Unthinkable. Harry, you must not do any such thing. Do you hear me? I will not allow it.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “Why not?” he asked at last.
“Because something dreadful might happen,” she gasped. “You might be killed. And it would be all my fault. I could not bear that, Graystone. Do you understand? I will not have that on my conscience. The entire matter of the debt was my problem and it is now resolved. There is no need to challenge Lovejoy. Please, Harry, I beg you. Promise me you will not do so.”
“From what I have been told, I would hazard a guess that your father or brother, were either still alive, would have made a dawn appointment with Lovejoy,” Harry observed softly.
“But it is not the same thing at all. They were very different types of men.” Augusta was feeling desperate.
“They were reckless and daring sorts, perhaps a bit too much so at times. In any event, I would not want them challenging Lovejoy, either. As I said before, the entire disaster was of my own doing.”
“Augusta—”
She gave the lapels of his greatcoat a sharp, admonishing shake. “I do not want someone else risking his neck for what was all my own fault. Please, Harry. Give me your word you will not do so. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you because of me.”
“You seem quite certain I would be the one who would lose in such a duel,” he said. “I imagine I should feel somewhat offended by your lack of confidence in my skill with a pistol.”
“No, no, it is not that.” She shook her head frantically, anxious to reassure him lest he be embarrassed. “It is just that some men such as my brother are more inclined by nature toward dangerous activities. You are not. You are a scholar, sir, not a hot-blooded out-and-outer or a Corinthian.”
“I begin to believe you actually have some affection for me, Augusta, even if you do not think highly of my dueling skills.”
“Well, of course I think highly of you, Harry. I have always thought highly of you. I have even grown somewhat fond of you of late.”
“I see.”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she heard the soft mockery in his words. She had just allowed this man to make love to her on a carriage cushion and here she was telling him she was somewhat fond of him.
He must think her a perfect goose. On the other hand, she could hardly tell him she was wildly in love with him. This was hardly the time or place for such a passionate declaration. Everything was in too much chaos.
“Harry, you have been most helpful to me this evening and I would not want you to suffer because of my actions,” Augusta concluded stoutly.
Harry was silent for another long moment. Then he smiled grimly. “I will make you a bargain, Augusta. I will refrain from issuing a challenge to Lovejoy on the morrow if you will give me y
our word you will not give me any further argument about being married by special license in two days’ time.”
“But, Harry—”
“Do we have a bargain, my dear?”
She drew a deep breath, knowing she was trapped. “Yes, we have a bargain.”
“Excellent.”
Augusta narrowed her eyes in sudden suspicion. “Graystone, if I did not know better, I would swear you were an exceedingly cunning and rather clever beast.”
“Ah, but you do know me better than to conclude that, do you not, my dear? I am merely a rather dull and plodding classical scholar.”
“Who makes love in carriages and who just happens to know how to open locks and secret safes.”
“One learns the most amazing facts in books.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Now run along inside and get out of those damn breeches. They are most unsuitable for a lady. I prefer my future countess in proper female attire.”
“That does not surprise me, my lord.” She turned to leave.
“Augusta?”
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Harry reach into the pocket of his greatcoat. He drew out a small pouch. “Yes, Harry?”
“I believe this belongs to you. I trust you will not find yourself in a position where you must pawn it again.”
“My necklace.” She smiled glowingly up at him as she took the pouch from his hand. She stood on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss against his jaw. “Thank you, my lord. You cannot know what this means to me. However did you manage to find it?”
“Your moneylender was more than willing to part with it,” Harry said, his voice dry.
“I shall, of course, give you the thousand pounds I got when I pawned it,” Augusta said quickly, thrilled to have the necklace safely back in her possession.
“Never mind the thousand pounds. You may consider it a portion of the marriage settlements.”
“That is very generous of you, my lord. But I could not possibly allow you to give me such a gift.”
“You can and you will,” Harry said coolly. “I am your fiancé, if you will recall. It is my privilege to give you the occasional gift. And I shall consider myself amply repaid if you have learned your lesson tonight.”
“About Lovejoy? Never fear. I have definitely learned my lesson about him. I shall never play cards with him again.” Augusta paused, feeling wonderfully generous herself. “Nor will I even dance with him in future.”
“Augusta, you will not even talk to him in future. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Harry.”
His face softened slightly as his eyes skimmed over her. The possessiveness in his gaze sent a shiver of awareness through Augusta.
“Run along, my dear,” Harry said. “It grows late.”
Augusta turned and fled into the house.
Harry was shown into Lovejoy’s small library shortly before noon the next morning. He casually surveyed the room and saw that everything was just as it had been last night, including the globe, which was still in its location near the bookcase.
Lovejoy leaned back in his chair behind the desk and eyed his unexpected visitor with seemingly lazy interest. But there was a wary gleam in his green eyes. “Good morning, Graystone. What brings you here today?”
“A personal matter. It will not take long.” Harry seated himself in the wing chair near the hearth. Contrary to Augusta’s assumption last night, he’d had no intention of challenging Lovejoy this morning. He believed in knowing an enemy well before choosing an appropriate method of dealing with him.
“A personal matter, you say. I must admit I am surprised. I did not think Miss Ballinger would go to you about the little matter of her gaming debts. So she had asked you to pay them, has she?”
Harry lifted an inquiring brow. “Not at all. I am unaware of any such debts, sir. However, one should never make assumptions about Miss Ballinger. My fiancée is not entirely predictable.”
“So I am given to understand.”
“I, however, am very predictable in my ways. I think you should know that, Lovejoy. If I say I will do something, it generally gets done.”
“I see.” Lovejoy toyed with a heavily chased silver paperweight. “And just what are you proposing to do?”
“Protect my fiancée from the sort of games you apparently enjoy playing with women.”
Lovejoy gave him a deeply offended look. “Graystone, it is not my fault your fiancée enjoys the occasional hand of cards. If you are truly bent on marrying the lady, you would do well to consider her nature. She is inclined toward reckless entertainment. The tendency runs in the family, I hear. At least on the Northumberland side of the clan.”
“It is not my fiancée’s fondness for cards that concerns me.”
“No? I should think it would concern you deeply, Graystone. Once your fortune is at her disposal, she will no doubt grow even more fond of games of chance.” Lovejoy smiled meaningfully.
Harry smiled back quite blandly. “As I said, I am not concerned about her choice of entertainments. It is your teasing her about the matter of her brother’s death that has brought me here today.”
“She told you about that, did she?”
“I was informed you more or less promised to help her investigate the incident. I seriously doubt you can offer her any useful assistance. Nor do I want the past dug up. It will only succeed in causing my fiancée pain and that I will not tolerate. You are to leave the matter alone, Lovejoy. Do you understand?”
“What makes you so certain I cannot help her get her brother’s reputation out from under the cloud of suspicion that hovered over him at the time of his death?”
“We both know there is no way to go back and prove or disprove Ballinger’s guilt. It is best that the matter stay buried.” Harry held Lovejoy’s gaze. “Unless, of course,” he said quietly, “you have some special knowledge of the event, in which case you will tell me about it. Do you know anything, Lovejoy?”
“Good lord, no.”
“I thought not.” Harry got to his feet. “I trust you are telling the truth, because I would be most unhappy to learn otherwise. I will bid you good day. By the bye, although I do not intend to forbid my fiancée the occasional game of cards, I am forbidding her to play with you. You must try your tricks elsewhere, Lovejoy.”
“How dull. I quite enjoy Miss Ballinger’s company. And there is the little matter of the thousand pounds she owes me. Tell me, Graystone, given the rumor that you are demanding excessively virtuous behavior in your next countess, does it not alarm you that you are engaged to a young woman who tends to play rather deep?”
Harry smiled faintly. “You must be mistaken, Lovejoy. My fiancée does not owe you any money. Certainly not a thousand pounds.”
“Do not be too certain of that.” Lovejoy got to his feet, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Would you care to see her marker?”
“If you can produce it, I shall, of course, settle the debt here and now. But I doubt you can present any such marker.”
“One moment.”
Harry watched with interest as Lovejoy crossed the room to the globe and took a key from his pocket. He inserted it in the hidden lock and the top half of the globe sprang open, just as it had last night.
There was an acute silence as Lovejoy stood gazing down into the bottom half of the globe for a long moment. Then he turned slowly around to face Harry. His face was expressionless.
“I appear to have been mistaken,” Lovejoy said softly. “I do not have your lady’s marker, after all.”
“I did not think so. I believe we understand each other very well now, do we not, Lovejoy? Again, I shall bid you good day. You may congratulate me, by the way. I am to be married tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Lovejoy could not completely hide his start of surprise. His eyes narrowed. “You amaze me, sir. I would not have thought you so rash. From all accounts anyone who marries Miss Augusta Ballinger must be prepared for a great many adventures.”
“It will no doubt mak
e an interesting change for me. I am told I have spent too many years buried in my books. Perhaps it is time I was introduced to a bit of adventure.” Without waiting for a reply, Harry opened the door and let himself out of the library. Behind him he heard the lid of the globe safe being slammed shut with sufficient force to echo in the hall.
Lovejoy’s choice of Augusta as a target for his obnoxious little games was interesting, Harry thought as he left the huuse. He decided it was time to make a few inquiries into the man’s past. The task would give Peter Sheldrake something more useful to do than play at being Scruggs the butler.
Claudia walked into Augusta’s bedchamber and stood calmly amid the whirlwind of commotion that was taking place there. She frowned gently at her cousin over a sea of gowns, shoes, hatboxes, trunks, and plumes.
“I do not understand the necessity for all this packing up and dashing about, Augusta. It makes no sense to get married by special license when the plans for your wedding in four months are coming along very nicely. It is not quite the thing to hurry matters like this. Graystone, of all people, should understand that.”
“If you have any questions, I suggest you take them directly to Graystone. This is all his idea.” Augusta, busy directing the flurry of activity from her command position near the wardrobe, scowled at her maid. “No, no, Betsy, put my ball gowns in the other trunk. The petticoats go in that one. Have my books been packed?”
“Yes, Miss. I packed ’em meself this mornin’.”
“Good. I do not want to find myself stuck in Dorset with only the contents of my future husband’s library available to me. I imagine it contains a great many volumes on old Greeks and Romans and not a single novel.”
Betsy hoisted a mountain of silk and satin out of one trunk and lowered it into another. “Don’t know what ye’ll be needin’ these for in the country, Miss.”
“Best to be prepared. Do not forget the matching slippers and gloves for each gown.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Claudia waded forward through the piles of trunks and hatboxes and forged a path around the bed, which was strewn with petticoats, stockings, and garters. “Augusta, I would like to talk to you.”