A Reason to Rebel

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by Wendy Soliman


  “I doubt that it is concealed there.” Alex stood and looked out of the window, hands clasped behind his back. “If I were him I would either keep something that precious on my person at all times or, knowing how dangerous the areas he frequents can be, somewhere else that only he knows about.”

  “That is plausible,” conceded Estelle.

  “Porter, you have already done more than could be reasonably expected of one man for the sake of Miss Winthrop. However, if my plan is to succeed, I must ask you to consider doing yet more.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do not commit yourself until you have heard me out. My scheme is not without risk to your professional position, but that position is the reason we need you to carry it out. Were it otherwise, I would do it myself.”

  To an accompaniment of gasps of astonishment from his audience, Alex laid out his plan.

  “But you cannot ask Mr. Porter to do that for the sake of my family,” said Estelle.

  “Do not forget that it will soon be my family too, Mrs. Travis. Besides, I would have this matter resolved for the sake of my future wife’s peace of mind.” He turned towards Alex, his expression resolute. “You can depend upon me, my lord, I will not fail you.”

  “I understand your concerns for Marianne.” Estelle’s eyes rested upon her sister’s face. “But if you were to be caught in the deception, it would assuredly cost you your position at Nesbit’s. You would not then be able to complete your articles and how would you support a wife?”

  “If the deception is discovered I shall intercede,” said Alex, “and assure Nesbit that Porter was acting under my direct and precise instructions.”

  “Well…I suppose—”

  “You will have your part to play as well, m’dear.”

  “How so?”

  “I doubt that Cowper will take your word that you are employed at Nesbit’s, Porter. Or for any part of your story, come to that, and will want to see for himself that you are who you say you are.”

  “And so he will call at the office on some pretext to make sure I am there.” Porter appeared unperturbed at the prospect.

  “That is my anticipation. But even that will not convince him that you are privy to the information you claim to be. Do not forget that he is vastly loyal to Winthrop, looks upon him as a father figure and trusts him implicitly. That is why you will let slip that Mrs. Travis is due to call at your office at eleven on the following morning to sign the papers her father has prepared for her.”

  “You anticipate that he will come to Ramsgate and keep watch to see if I really do call?” Alex nodded. “And when I arrive he will have to believe Mr. Porter’s account, or at the very least entertain severe doubts as to my father’s true intentions.” Estelle smiled widely and clapped her hands in delight. “That is brilliant, Alex!”

  “Thank you,” he responded, valiantly attempting to suppress his amusement.

  “And when he is convinced you are telling the truth, his first reaction will be to recover his hidden papers, or at least check that they are still in place,” said Matthew. “Then he will confront my father.”

  “That is my expectation.”

  “But I do not see how that will help our cause.” Estelle frowned. “Unless we are a party to that confrontation.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But how can you know when and where Mr. Cowper will have it out with Papa?”

  “You have hit upon our difficulty.” Alex flashed a brief smile at Estelle. “And so we shall have to keep Cowper in sight at all times and adapt our plan in accordance with the direction of the wind.”

  “That sounds rather nebulous.”

  “The best plans often are.”

  “You can rely upon my cooperation,” said Porter. “When do we start?”

  “Tomorrow morning I will call to see Nesbit and inform him I require the services of his clerk for the rest of the day.”

  “Will he not require to know your business?” asked Estelle.

  “No, he will readily acquiesce.” Alex did not consider it necessary to say that his title would open that and many other doors. Nesbit would not presume to ask any awkward questions for fear of displeasing his aristocratic client. “That way, should our plan fail, the responsibility for Porter’s actions will be mine, and I shall make it my business to square things with his employer.”

  “You look all done in, Matthew,” said Estelle. “I believe we have worn you out with all our planning. We ought to leave you to rest.”

  “Nonsense! It has done me the power of good to see you, I never felt more rejuvenated.” But his dropping eyelids told a different story. “I only wish there was more I could do to help.” He fisted his hands in frustration. “Damn this fever!”

  “There is one way you could make yourself useful, if you have a mind to,” Alex said, anxious to ensure that Estelle’s brother felt both involved and committed to the scheme.

  “Name it.”

  “Well, you could keep your sisters entertained tomorrow whilst Porter and I are otherwise engaged.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes. “You don’t ask much of a chap.”

  “We do not need a chaperone,” Estelle protested.

  Alex grinned and rose to his feet. “I was not for one moment suggesting that you do. I am merely being cautious. Your father will not have given you up and will still be actively searching for you. I do not think we were followed here but I am not about to underestimate the man and would feel better if I knew you were out of public view.”

  “Well, of course, Estelle must stay here with me tonight,” said Marianne. “She can share my chamber and we will talk and laugh all night long. It will be quite like old times. But as to you, my lord, well…we only have—”

  “No, Miss Winthrop, pray do not concern yourself on my account. Mrs. Travis and I have accommodation at the Albion in Broadstairs.” Alex ignored the renewed speculative glances being exchanged between Estelle’s relatives. “We shall return there now and I shall deliver Mrs. Travis to your care—” he nodded at Matthew, “—in the morning. Come.” He extended a hand towards Estelle. “It is getting late and we ought to be gone.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The roads were choked with gigs, pony carts, wagons, and lads astride sturdy farm horses, all headed for the fair. Passage was slow and Alex was concentrating much of his attention upon his team to avoid a collision. Estelle was preoccupied and met his efforts to engage her in conversation with monosyllabic responses. She was delighted to be reunited with her siblings again and deep in thought about the revelations that had just been made.

  They reached their destination before it occurred to her that Alex had smoothly taken control of matters—again. He had formulated a plan to uncover her father’s nefarious activities. But that plan depended upon his participation for its success, since he was relying upon his social standing to absolve Porter from blame should something unforeseen cause them to fail. A gentleman of his elevated status deliberately inveigling himself in her affairs begged the obvious question. Why? She could not begin to imagine why, but fully intended to extract a satisfactory explanation from his lordship at the first opportunity.

  Only half listening as he gave orders for supper to be served immediately, Estelle mounted the stairs and entered their chamber ahead of Alex, who held the door open for her.

  “I have been thinking.” She removed her gloves and bonnet and placed them on a table.

  “So I apprehend, since you have barely spoken a word since leaving Porter’s residence.” He offered her a curling smile of such luminance as to temporarily send her thoughts on a sensual detour. “Have I done ought to offend you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then perhaps you would care to share your thoughts with me?”

  “With the greatest of pleasure. I thank you for being so willing to involve yourself in my family’s affairs. However, upon reflection I am persuaded there is no necessity for you or Mr. Porter to inconvenience yourselves and th
at matters ought to be left as they are.”

  “I think Porter would give you an argument if you tried to stop him fighting on Marianne’s behalf. In fact, he is already relishing the idea of besting your father and showing himself in an even more gratifying light to your sister.”

  “You approve of him then.” She could not say why his opinion should matter to her but only knew that it did.

  “I do indeed.”

  “I feel the same way. I approved when I first met him in my husband’s house and nothing I saw today has changed that opinion.”

  “Well, there you are then.”

  “Yes, but I still do not see the need to involve either of you in our affairs. Mr. Porter will be qualified in a few months and my sister will come of age shortly thereafter. They will then be in a position to marry, and there is nothing my father will be able to do to prevent them. Why risk Mr. Porter’s position unnecessarily?”

  “You appear to have lost sight of the fact that it is not just your sister’s reputation at risk here, Estelle. It is yours, and Matthew’s, too.”

  “Mine is of no consequence.”

  “If you really believe what you say, then you cannot have considered the matter from society’s point of view.”

  “Indeed I have.” She bridled at the suggestion that she was too woolly-headed to reason the matter through. “But I do not give two figs for other people’s opinion of me. I do not intend to remarry or be beholden to any man ever again. Instead I shall seek a position as a governess or companion, after I have seen Marianne settled and Matthew restored to health, naturally.” She whirled away from him and unfastened her pelisse. “And I do not require society’s approbation to follow such a path.”

  “What you say is true but you appear to have overlooked the fact that in order to gain employment, you will first require a character. If your father’s activities were to be generally known, who would provide you with one?”

  He followed her example by removing his hat and gloves and setting them on the table alongside her own. It was a strangely domestic action that caused regret to weigh heavily on her heart. He followed the direction of her eyes, raised his own, cool amusement reflected in them, almost as though he could sense the attraction she felt towards him on the rare occasions when she allowed it to creep beneath her guard. His superior response angered her, tamping down her regrets and reminding her that her silly infatuation was a lost cause. Lord Crawley must be accustomed to women flinging themselves at him and she had no intention of joining their ranks.

  She put up her chin and averted her eyes in an effort to reclaim the moral high ground. “I daresay Miss Frobisher would offer me employment in her school, were I to approach her and explain my predicament.”

  Alex merely chuckled. “Possibly; if that is the sort of occupation you would find fulfilling. However, knowing what I do of your character, I seriously doubt it.”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “I beg to differ.” His grin was annoyingly smug. “No, m’dear, there is no help for it, I am afraid. We must resolve your difficulties with your father before you embark upon your search for a suitable occupation. If we do not, you will be tainted by association. The narrow-minded gentry will close ranks against you and you will be a lost cause.” His expression, far from being full of condescending superiority as she half expected, was instead compassionate. “You are far too attractive for the comfort of many of the ladies who might otherwise have employed you. They would seize upon your father’s public disgrace as an excuse to turn you away. In other words, your situation would become untenable and I would not have you exposed to such bigotry.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And Matthew’s hopes of obtaining a position as a steward would be dashed too. No one would wish to employ a young man, however personable and enthusiastic, if his father’s activities became fodder for the scandalmongers.”

  “All right, put like that, I do not see how I can prevent you from following your plan through, since you appear so determined. Thank you,” she added, aware that her behaviour had been far from gracious when he was going out of his way to help her.

  He responded with a courtly bow. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  “But that is what you intend to do, is it not?” she asked, moving away from him. “To expose my father’s misdeeds, I mean.”

  “No, indeed. I have something else entirely in mind.”

  “Then what? Perhaps you would have the goodness to explain your thoughts, since the outcome of your actions is likely to impact upon my life, not yours.”

  A tap at the door heralded the arrival of their supper.

  He chuckled at her fit of pique. “I will explain it all to you later, but let us eat first.” He directed the maid to the table in front of the window and held a chair for Estelle until, with a rebellious toss of her head, she condescended to be seated.

  “Now, what do we have here?” He lifted the covers and peered into a tureen. “I am famished. Ah, beef broth, if I am not much mistaken, and mutton stew. It smells delicious. Can I serve you, m’dear? A glass of wine to wash the dust from your throat, perhaps?”

  Alex entertained her throughout the course of their meal with discourse wholly unconnected with her father. He spoke of his mother in affectionate terms and of the Crawley estate generally. He explained the improvements he planned to the tenants’ cottages, asking her opinion about matters connected to the church, rolling his eyes as he explained about the new drainage system he was grappling with.

  Estelle, who was acutely aware of the anticipatory atmosphere between them, said little. If Alex noticed her abstracted state he made no mention of it. She wondered if he knew when offering her the seat which faced directly into the room that the huge bed would fall into her sphere of vision every time she looked up from her plate, testing her determination to resist its temptations. She glanced at the compelling sophisticate seated across from her, his eyes fastened on her face with an expression of amused expectancy. His long fingers were linked round the stem of his glass and slid absently up and down its length in much the same way they had caressed her body the previous night.

  She gulped and looked away. She could not in all conscience blame Alex for what had occurred between them since she had all but signified her willingness when she brazenly suggested they share the same bed. For the first time in her entire life she had put aside common sense and acted upon her impulses, enjoying her moment of quixotic madness and unable to regret it.

  But it would not be repeated tonight. The landlord had anticipated yesterday that he might have another chamber vacant this evening. Estelle could not recall if Alex had asked him about it when they had returned earlier but would certainly remind him to do so. He had been at pains to make it clear to her this afternoon that their brief intimacies had no specific meaning for him. Well, no more did they for her. She would behave with dignity from this point onwards and had no intention of clinging.

  “You were going to explain your strategy for dealing with my father and Mr. Cowper,” Estelle reminded him as soon as the maid had taken away the remnants of their meal.

  “That I was.” He offered her his arm and led her to a comfortable chair in front of the fire. “If Cowper falls for the bait, he will assuredly either recover the papers he has stashed somewhere—”

  “But what if it is not written down?”

  “Then we are unlikely to succeed. However, I do not for a moment consider that anything that valuable would be trusted to one individual’s memory.”

  “Then let us hope you are right.”

  “Yes, let us hope that.”

  “I can see your logic, I suppose.” Estelle furrowed her brow and assumed a distracted expression to avoid meeting those compelling eyes. “And so he will recover the papers. And then what?”

  “He will either recover the papers or at least check to see that they are still where he left them. I have sent for three trustworthy footmen from my London establishment
to meet me in Wapping tomorrow. They will follow Porter to the meeting with Cowper and thereafter keep Cowper under constant surveillance.”

  “And so they will know if he has the papers with him and, if not, where they are hidden.”

  “I am confident that will be the case. And if he has them with him my men will, if circumstances permit, accost him and relieve him of the burden.”

  “But how will that help our cause? It will prevent my father from obtaining what is not rightfully his and, perhaps, remove his desire to see me married to Mr. Cowper. But it will not tell us if he had my husband killed.”

  “No, but I am hoping Cowper will volunteer that information himself.”

  “Hmm, I do not see how you can possibly achieve that end. Cowper is nobody’s fool.”

  “Just trust me.” He smiled at her. “I have not let you down yet, have I?”

  “No, you have not.” She made the concession and dropped her eyes, unprepared for the depth of feeling she thought she could see in his resourceful face.

  “Well then.” He turned towards the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The tap room.”

  “Oh.” Was he trying to tell her that he had no desire to share a bed with her for a second night? Was her inexperience such that he could not bear the thought of repeating the act? She bridled. It was one thing deciding she did not wish to be seduced but quite another for him to reject her. “I see. Well, do not let me keep you from your brandy.” She turned away so that he would not see the hurt in her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Leaning over her, he grasped her chin and tilted her head backwards. “Something is on your mind. Tell me what it is.”

  “Did you speak to the landlord about another room?”

  “Yes, unfortunately there are still none available.”

  “How tiresome for you.” She twisted her chin out of his grasp and stared at her lap. “The sofa will have to suffice for you tonight in that case.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

 

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