The Heiress's Convenient Husband

by Regina Scott

  She turned from the sight. “I’d like to meet your niece next. Shall we visit the spa?”

  Maudie led the way.

  Eva had heard of Bath and Scarborough, but she’d never visited a spa before. She had thought to find bathing rooms, perhaps a tearoom, but the spa at Grace-by-the-Sea resembled nothing so much as a conservatory in one of the larger London homes. Pale blue walls encircled the pump room, as if a cloudless summer’s day greeted her. A lacquered harpsichord sat in one corner, waiting to be played, and a stone fountain in the opposite corner bubbled with sparkling water. The scent of lavender floated around her.

  An older, auburn-haired woman was holding court near a bank of wide windows overlooking the sea, her admirers seated around her in white wicker chairs. Maudie made for her side.

  “What have you done with Jesslyn?” she asked.

  The gentlemen looked her way, then rose. One, a rheumy-eyed fellow of narrow frame, frowned as if taking umbrage on the lady’s behalf.

  “Good morning to you as well, Mrs. Tully,” the lady said in a warm, amused voice. “Your niece is leading a tour of the village. Now, do make us known to your friend.”

  “Why?” Maudie asked.

  An older gentleman with silver hair and an impressive countenance stepped forward. “Allow me. Miss Chance mentioned you were chaperoning a Miss Faraday. May I present Mrs. Harding…”

  The auburn-haired lady inclined her head.

  “Mr. Crabapple…”

  The rheumy-eyed man nodded with a sniff.

  “Mr. Donner, a recent addition to our group, and his friend, Mr. George…”

  The two brunettes, both young and dapper, bowed to her.

  “Admiral Walsey…”

  The portly older man attempted a bow and nearly overset himself.

  “And my own humble self, Featherstone.” He effected a far more elegant bow.

  Eva curtsied. “A pleasure to make your acquaintances.”

  “Will you be visiting long, Miss Faraday?” Mrs. Harding asked, gaze flickering over the two younger men in her train, who were regarding Eva with interest.

  “Not now,” Maudie said, tugging on her arm. “We must find Jess.”

  Well, that had been their mission, but Eva wouldn’t have minded tarrying. Instead, she allowed Maudie to tow her toward the door. “I hope to see you again soon,” she called to Mrs. Harding and her set. Lord Featherstone bowed again.

  Yeager rejoined them as they exited and started down the hill into the village proper. So small a place would likely include no more than a grocer and blacksmith, so it shouldn’t be so difficult to locate Miss Chance. Yet, any number of shops hugged the main street to the cove. Eva’s smile turned up.

  Maudie didn’t appear to know which of the businesses her niece was visiting, so she took Eva into each of them, starting on the west side of the street.

  “Mr. Carroll’s Curiosities,” Eva read on the gilded sign above the door before Maudie pulled her inside. Then she stopped and stared, turning to take in all the wonders around her. Books on brightly colored shelves, periodicals spread on tables, miniature automatons, and what was the huge charcoal-colored beast at the back? Yeager’s mouth was agape.

  “May I be of assistance?” A dapper fellow with a round face and a pleasant smile came forward.

  “Have you seen them?” Maudie demanded.

  He schooled his face to all seriousness. “Fairies or trolls?”

  “Neither,” Maudie said. “Jesslyn.”

  “She was here not a half hour ago,” he assured her. “You might try Mr. Ellison’s bakery.”

  “Oh, the bakery,” Eva enthused. “The bread this morning was marvelous.” She and Yeager followed Maudie from the shop.

  “Excellent rolls,” Maudie replied. “The cake’s not bad either. But I understand the mermaids were most disappointed in the macaroons.”

  She wasn’t sure how mermaids had managed to come by the little almond-flavored biscuits, but Mr. Ellison’s bakery was slightly closer to the shore. Miss Chance wasn’t there either.

  “Try the linens and trimmings shop,” the burly baker suggested as they left with a crusty loaf of bread, an iced cake, and a dozen cinnamon biscuits. Eva might not be able to pay for housing, but she had some pin money. Her father’s will had stipulated that, at least.

  The Misses Pierce, as the two older ladies introduced themselves, were happy to show off the bolts of fabric, ribbon, and braid that filled their shop, but it was easy to see that Eva was their only customer. The same was true of the milliner’s they tried next.

  “Perhaps we should have brought Patsy too, Miss Eva,” Yeager said, balancing the baked goods with boxes holding the purple braid and pink leather gloves she’d purchased at the other two shops.

  “Jesslyn has to be in here,” Maudie said, leading them into a shop across the street from Mr. Carroll’s Curiosities. Eva caught the name All the Colors of the Sea as she stepped inside to the ring of a bell.

  This shop was more like an art gallery, with paintings crowding the walls and tables down the center with any number of unique goods from tatted collars to wrought-iron wall sconces and colorful pottery.

  “You see,” Maudie declared. “I knew we could find her.”

  Blond curls peeking out of her straw bonnet, a young woman turned at the sound of Maudie’s voice. So did the others clustered around her.

  “Aunt,” she said with a pretty smile. “And you must be Miss Faraday.”

  Eva nodded as she and Maudie joined the group. “And you are Miss Chance, the spa hostess.”

  “Indeed I am. Allow me to make you known to our guests. Mrs. North and her son are visiting us from neighboring Wiltshire.”

  An attractive woman with honey-colored hair and a pink pelisse Eva could only envy, Mrs. North smiled a greeting. Her son, who appeared quite a few years younger than Eva, ogled her through his gilt-edged quizzing glass. Eva regarded him back, brows raised. He dropped the little square glass to the length of its black ribbon around the thoroughly complicated fold of his cravat.

  “Miss Tapper and her companion Mrs. Baugh are touring the coast,” Miss Chance continued.

  “And I must say we’ve had the best welcome here at Grace-by-the-Sea,” the younger brunette declared. Sturdy and rosy-cheeked, she looked as if she was ready to climb the highest hill in her tweed spencer and stout walking shoes. Her darker-haired older companion, dressed in black like Maudie, nodded her agreement.

  “Finally, we have Mr. Harris,” Miss Chance concluded. “He has been visiting us for the last fortnight. From London, I believe.”

  Mr. Harris had wavy brown hair and a trim mustache. He bowed to Eva and Maudie, bottle-green coat falling open to reveal a slender physique. “Ladies. Was any man so fortunate as to be surrounded by such beauty?”

  All the women smiled at him. Mr. North yawned.

  “Allow me to welcome you as well.” Another woman approached, the shopkeeper by the canvas smock that covered her gown. Still, Eva wondered at the green dots sprinkled through her ginger-colored hair.

  “All the Colors of the Sea carries any number of fine products crafted right here in our village,” she told them all. “Please, look around, and let me know if you have any questions.”

  Miss Chance watched her charges wander off in various directions before moving closer to Eva. Those big blue eyes regarded her kindly. “Mr. Howland explained that you are visiting the castle as a guest of the earl.”

  That was one way to put it. Then again, Eva didn’t know how the village, except for Maudie and Mr. Howland, viewed the earl. Best not to make enemies, or her ten-month sentence could be long indeed.

  “Yes,” Eva answered. “And thank you so much for allowing your aunt to chaperone me. She’s been nothing but a delight.”

  Maudie beamed at her. “We’re coming to the assembly on Wednesday.”

  “Excellent,” her niece said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you there. Excuse me.” She hurried to where Miss Tapper a
ppeared to be giving Mr. North the dressing down he deserved.

  Maudie tugged on Eva’s arm. “Come see the paintings.”

  There were several—wonderful landscapes that could well have inspired the shop’s name. Eva stopped before a massive canvas showing a stormy sea with the sun just beaming through the clouds. Oh, to see so far, to feel so free. She peered closer at the signature.

  “Archer,” she said to Maudie, who was studying the piece so fixedly she might have been searching for mermaids in the waves. “Is this by a local painter too?”

  “Indeed.” The shopkeeper moved briskly to their sides, her poplin skirts rustling. “Do you like the piece?”

  Eva nodded. “Mr. Archer is very talented.”

  “Mr. Archer, my father, wouldn’t have recognized a work of art if I had smacked it over his head,” she replied with a teasing smile. “That is one of mine.”

  Eva’s face felt hot. “Please forgive my assumption, Miss Archer.”

  Miss Archer inclined her head. “It is rare to find a lady selling her paintings, I know. I am blessed to be able to pursue my calling.”

  “Jesslyn was pursuing her calling,” Maudie said with a glance to her niece, who was examining a leather coin purse with Mr. Harris. “Now we’re to be tossed out like yesterday’s catch.”

  Miss Archer’s face darkened. “I know. And I haven’t given up, I promise you.”

  Eva glanced between them. “I don’t understand.”

  “Jesslyn and Maudie are being forced from their positions,” Miss Archer explained, voice as tart as a lemon. “It was a contested decision by the Spa Corporation Board. You would think people raised in this village would know better. Miss Chance’s father was the previous spa physician. She assisted him in running the spa until he passed last year.”

  “They want a new physician,” Maudie said. “Someone who can treat scrofulous coughs and other maladies.” She sighed as if she’d have preferred to treat such things herself.

  “The board looked hard for a replacement,” Miss Archer agreed. “Now one’s coming, but he thinks he can run the place all by himself. Just like a man.”

  “He might be persuaded to be reasonable,” Eva said. “I’ve only met a few unreasonable men in my life.” James Howland and the earl came to mind.

  The shop bell rang as the door opened again, and Miss Archer turned toward the sound. So did Eva.

  James Howland stood in the doorway. His head was up, his face set, his shoulders stiff.

  In short, he did not look pleased to be here.

  Chapter Six

  Abigail Archer was frowning at him, and James did his best to remove the scowl from his face. The artist hardly deserved his frustration. Neither did Eva Faraday and Mrs. Tully. Only the earl would put him in such a position.

  The day had not gone well. He’d waited until Eva, their chaperone, and her servant had left the castle, then made sure her maid and Pym were busy upstairs before heading for the door that led down to the caves. He’d wondered whether the thing would screech from disuse, but it had swung open on well-oiled hinges. He’d have to ask Quill about that.

  Down the long, winding stairs he’d gone, lantern in hand. The stone walls grew damper, darker. At the bottom, he stepped out on the floor of the cave.

  What once might have been sand was now covered with dark rocks fallen from the roof and sides of the low cave. Waves lapped at the edge, driven in through the Dragon’s Maw on the high tide. In the distance, the glow of light and the dull boom of surf told of the exit to the sea.

  Glancing around, he saw little sign of occupancy. If a boat had beached recently, he couldn’t tell. At least Quill was doing a good job there. But someone had built a fire. The pile of ash looked silvery grey next to the black-tinged rocks that ringed it.

  Yeager hadn’t returned when he eased out into the kitchen, and there was no sign of Pym or the maid. As he shut the door carefully behind him, he caught the sound of voices echoing in the great hall. He strode in that direction.

  Priestly and Pym were in consultation near the front door. They both looked up as James approached.

  “You returned faster than I expected,” he told his secretary. “Did you even reach London?”

  “No, sir,” Priestly said, pulling his dusty hat from his head and showing more of his bald spot in the process. “I met the earl’s footman on my way north. He was carrying a note for you.” He held it out to James with his free hand.

  James withdrew to the table to open the missive, breaking the heavy red wax sealed with the earl’s signet.

  “I have sent you a challenge,” his cousin had written. “Arden Faraday was a savvy fellow who provided some useful information on my investments. I agreed to take charge of his daughter when he passed. I have found her ungrateful, headstrong, and ill-disciplined. She will not heed my advice and counsel. For her own good and the good of the rest of the household, I have sent her to live in Castle How. She is to have no visitors. She is not to associate with anyone in the village. Expend as little time and money on her as you must to see to her basic needs. With seclusion may come wisdom. Send an update on her state of mind when you provide your monthly report. Howland.”

  The tone and direction were every bit what he’d come to expect from the earl. The only oddity was the signature. He was used to seeing the bold, black scrawl, feeling the supreme confidence with which it had been penned. This signature was thinner. Indeed, the pen hadn’t even touched the paper in places, as if the hand that had written it had shaken.

  He glanced up to find both his staff watching him. “You’re certain the man you met was the earl’s?” he asked Priestly.

  His secretary nodded. “I’d seen him when you took me up to London last. He generally waits upon the earl in his study.”

  Dawson, then. No mistaking the strapping footman with his coal-black hair and bulbous nose. James folded the note and set it on the table. “Thank you, Priestly. Take the afternoon and your usual Sunday off, and get some rest.”

  Priestly bowed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you on Monday. Here or…?”

  “At the magistrate’s house,” James said. “The earl has confirmed that Miss Faraday is here as his guest. We will give her every courtesy.”

  They both inclined their heads. “Sir.”

  His secretary left, and Pym crossed to his side. It appeared Eva Faraday truly was the earl’s prisoner. What had she done to earn his wrath?

  And how could James protect her from the consequences?

  “Then are we moving back to the house, sir?” Pym asked.

  He would, except for the matter of the stranger in the castle last night. Would Eva be safe if he left? Bringing her home with him would only fuel speculation, even if Mrs. Tully stayed as well. Easy enough to avoid her in the castle. Impossible at the house.

  “I’ll give the matter thought,” he told his man. “For now, assume we will be here at least another night. I’ll go give Miss Faraday the good news.”

  James had walked the path down into the village. He might have ridden Majestic, but he would have had to take the drive to the cliff road, then follow it to the crossroads that led east to Lord Peverell’s Lodge on the opposite headland, north to the village of Upper Grace on the Downs, and south into Grace-by-the-Sea.

  He had thought Miss Faraday might have gone to the spa, so he’d checked there first. Miss Chance was missing from her usual spot near the welcome desk in the Grand Pump Room of the spa, but the auburn-haired beauty, Mrs. Harding, was lounging in her usual spot that looked down toward the cove. Lord Featherstone, another of those who attended regularly, detached himself from the group to meet James.

  “Magistrate,” the older man said as he joined James by the large bronze wall clock. “What brings you to our circle?”

  “I was looking for a new addition to your set, a Miss Faraday,” James answered. “I take it you haven’t seen her or Mrs. Tully this afternoon?”

  “Miss Faraday and Mrs. Tully were here n
ot an hour ago, but they decamped for the village, where Miss Chance is leading a tour.” He cocked his head. “An intriguing young lady to arrive here, no chaperone, no companion. What do you know of her?”

  “Not enough at present,” James assured him. “But I believe she will be with us for some time.”

  “Then I look forward to furthering the acquaintance,” Lord Featherstone said.

  With a bow, James left the silver-haired lord to his pleasures.

  As he continued down the hill into the village proper, it was easy enough to spot Yeager lounging outside the gallery, packages piled at his feet. He scrambled straighter as James pushed past him into the shop.

  “Miss Archer,” he greeted the painter now, letting the door close behind him. “Forgive the interruption. I was looking for Miss Faraday.”

  “Oh?” Miss Archer glanced between them, reddish brows up. “Am I to understand his lordship has returned at last and is hosting a house party?”

  Who had started that rumor? It must be squelched immediately. While Grace-by-the-Sea was remarkably tolerant of visitors, a few residents would want to know why they hadn’t been invited to any party in the castle.

  “I regret the earl must remain in London for the time being,” he told her. “Duty. He thought his good friend, Miss Faraday, might enjoy a holiday.” He turned to Eva. “I see you’ve been enjoying the village.”

  “A great deal, Mr. Howland,” she said brightly. “Everyone here has been very welcoming.”

  He glanced around to find a number of people gazing back, looks brimming with curiosity. “Ah, yes. Excuse me a moment while I pay my respects to Miss Chance.”

  Now Miss Faraday’s look turned curious, but he moved to meet the spa hostess.

  “Miss Chance,” he said as the fellow beside her hurried off to study the pottery as if it held the meaning of life. “It appears Miss Faraday will be with us for some time. I will speak to your aunt about continuing her services as chaperone, but I’d like to pay their subscription to the spa.”

  Those blue eyes were wide and guileless, but he knew from experience they masked a sharp mind with the tactical skills of a general. “Speak to Mr. Lawrence,” she advised. “As our spa treasurer, he records all subscriptions and lets me know who has paid and who is in arrears.”