The Major Meets His Match

by Annie Burrows

  He grabbed her by the upper arms. ‘I can rectify that error right here, right now,’ he said, leaning in and looking intently at her mouth.

  ‘In the street?’ Her voice came out as an indignant squeak. And she was indignant. Because that wasn’t what she’d meant to say. What she ought to have said. Not at all. Because questioning the venue, rather than the action, would make him think that she wanted him to kiss her. And look, see? He was leaning in even closer. If she didn’t do something, right now, then he would kiss her. And he was too close already for her to be able to jab him in the stomach with her umbrella again.

  All she could do was pull her upper body as far back as she could and bring her umbrella down sharply on to his foot.

  It had the desired effect. His face stopped looming inexorably closer. And he winced.

  But he didn’t let go of her arms.

  ‘Your umbrella isn’t going to keep me off,’ he growled. ‘I’m not a shower of rain.’

  ‘But if you kiss me, here, in the street, it would cause a shocking scandal. You might even end up having to marry me.’ There, if anything could frighten him off, the threat of marriage should do it.

  Or so she would have thought. But to her surprise, it only made him smile, in a rather grim sort of way.

  ‘At least if we were to marry I’d gain the right to come to your aid when you were in trouble. And you’d never have to walk about the streets unprotected, at the mercy of every rogue and rake in Town.’

  ‘I...’ Her breath seized in her throat. He really didn’t seem that concerned about the prospect of marrying her. On the contrary, it was almost as though he’d relish the opportunity of getting more involved with her. She felt something melt inside. Something that had always been wound up tight, and hard, in the very centre of her being.

  ‘It is a bit extreme,’ she said breathily, ‘don’t you think? Marrying me, just to find out...what the difficulty is that I’m trying to solve?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be the only reason.’

  ‘Oh?’ The melty feeling expanded. Fluttered. Almost took on the shape of hope trying to spread its wings. ‘What...what other reasons could there possibly be?’ Her heart began to beat really fast.

  ‘When I thought you’d left Town, when I thought I’d never see you again...’ His hands were no longer gripping her hard. They were sliding up and down her arms in a positively caressing manner. ‘I realised something.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes, I—’

  At that moment, a hawker carrying a massive pile of wicker baskets jostled them as he failed to find enough room on the pavement to avoid them, knocking Lord Becconsall’s hat askew. Lord Becconsall scowled at him. Then straightened his hat. Then looked down at her as though he couldn’t quite recall what he’d been about to say.

  ‘This is not the place for this kind of discussion,’ he said. With such a look in his eye that Harriet’s burgeoning hope withered and died on the spot.

  ‘Devil take it,’ he snarled. Making her sure that he regretted all the soft words. All the hints that marrying her might not be such a dreadful fate after all.

  ‘Where can a man and a woman go to discuss matters of this sort, without an audience?’

  As he scowled at the ever-increasing stream of pedestrians going about their business, Harriet’s spirits revived. Because he wanted to talk to her some more. About marriage.

  ‘I know,’ he said, seizing her hand and setting off back in the direction from which they’d come.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ And why wasn’t she putting up the slightest bit of a struggle?

  ‘A coffee house,’ he said, as he plunged down a side street. ‘I know it isn’t exactly the right place for a respectable young lady to go, on her own, with a young man. But can you imagine what would happen if we were to head for somewhere like Gunther’s?’

  She shuddered. Gunther’s was practically on Aunt Susan’s doorstep. Plenty of society people went in there. Possibly even at this hour of the day. Someone would be bound to see them and carry the tale back to her aunt. And make it sound as scurrilous as they could, while they were at it.

  ‘It isn’t all that far,’ said Lord Becconsall. ‘But I suggest that you use the time until then thinking about how much you wish to tell me about your problem.’

  Her problem? So...he wasn’t taking her somewhere out of the way so he could speak to her about marriage?

  Of course he wasn’t. Foolish, hopeless, Harriet. He just couldn’t stand being kept in the dark over a mystery.

  ‘What,’ she said with a touch of resentment, ‘if I decide not to tell you anything about it?’

  ‘Then I shall at least have had the pleasure of escorting you along the street and spending time with you, tête-à-tête, in a dark and private nook. But I give you fair warning...’ He darted her a look loaded with laughter. ‘Now that I know you are in some sort of trouble I shall be dogging your footsteps.’

  ‘Must you?’

  ‘I must. I would never forgive myself, you see, if any harm were to befall you.’

  Something warm unfurled inside Harriet once more. Because nobody had ever cared enough to even say that they’d be unable to forgive themselves if something bad happened to her, even if they didn’t really mean it.

  He towed her across the narrow street and down an even narrower alley, before ducking into the doorway of an oak-beamed building that looked as though it really ought to have fallen down just after the Great Fire.

  A couple of men were sitting at tables by the street windows, poring intently over newspapers. It was too dark, further in, for anyone to be able to see clearly enough to read. The place smelled of a mixture of roasting coffee, and stale tobacco smoke, and, strangely enough, something that reminded her of her father’s hacking jacket when he’d been out in the rain.

  Lord Becconsall strode without hesitation to a table stationed just behind one of the massive, blackened, oak pillars holding up the sooty ceiling.

  ‘Now,’ he said, removing his gloves and tossing them on to the table. ‘Are you going to tell me how I can employ my low cunning to solve the problem you were considering taking to the Runners?’

  She supposed she ought not to feel so disappointed that he looked so eager to talk about that, rather than continuing with the other thread of their conversation. The one that dealt with magical kisses and the world being empty when he thought she’d left Town. Or at least, that was what she hoped he’d been about to say before the basket seller had jostled him.

  ‘It’s not really my story to tell,’ she began, leaning her umbrella against the table rim and laying her reticule in her lap.

  He gave her a look that she thought might have been full of respect. Unless it was just yet more wishful thinking. Or a shadow flitting across his face from when the waiter had gone hurrying past.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said, tilting his hat back to a ridiculous angle. ‘Why don’t you tell it to me as though it was...a story you have read in a book?’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You do know what books are, don’t you? Small square things, made of paper—’

  She kicked him under the table.

  He flinched, laughing. ‘Come on. I’ve told you a legend from Ancient Greece. You could at least repay me by telling me a...fairy tale I’ve never heard before. And then, if anyone was to ask you what we were talking about all morning—if anyone should find out we’ve been together—you can tell them, with all honesty, that we told each other our favourite nursery tales. Because I have to say, Lady Harriet, that you don’t look to me as though you are much good at telling lies.’

  ‘I am not,’ she said, lifting her chin.

  ‘There you go, then.’

  She sighed. Even now he was thinking of ways to explain away their meeting, ways that wo
uld get him out of a tight spot.

  ‘My word, you are tricky,’ she said resentfully. ‘The inside of your head must be so tangled up with the intricate strategies you have to employ, just to get through a single day, that it must be like a nest of rats’ tails.’

  He made no reply to that. Because the waiter came over to take their order.

  Even though she was sure the fellow couldn’t possibly know her, Harriet ducked her head under the pretext of rummaging for something in her reticule. And didn’t lift it again until he’d gone.

  At which point Lord Becconsall cleared his throat.

  ‘At the very least, if you tell the whole tale out loud, it might help you to get your thoughts clear and then you might know what line to take. Because at the moment, I have to say, you do not look at all as though you do.’

  Which was perfectly true.

  And anyway, she’d already pretty much made up her mind to tell him as much as she could. And his suggestion of presenting the facts as though they were a story out of a book was the perfect way of unburdening herself without actually breaking any of the promises she’d made about not speaking at all.

  ‘And...and you will not tell anyone what I have told you?’

  ‘I shall not.’

  She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the expression in his eyes, or simply because she so badly needed to confide in someone, but anyway, she decided to give him a chance. She was never going to find out if she could trust him, unless she took a leap of faith, was she? And if he did let her down, then at least she’d know she’d tried.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Once upon a time...’

  His face, never far from laughter, lit up as though she’d just given him a precious gift. ‘Thank you,’ he said. And then, after a glance round the murky room, as though to check whether anyone was attempting to eavesdrop, said in a louder voice, ‘That’s how all the best stories start.’

  ‘There was a...a princess,’ she continued, slowly removing her gloves. ‘Who was going to a ball, where she was to choose a handsome prince to marry.’

  ‘Did it have to be a prince?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Couldn’t it have been someone of more humble origin? A...viscount, say?’

  ‘Absolutely not. Her father would not want her to marry anyone who wasn’t of royal blood.’

  His smile dimmed. He frowned at her hands.

  ‘I had no idea he was so high in the instep.’

  ‘Stop interrupting. Anyway, as I was saying, she was going to this ball and wanted to wear her finest jewels. Only when her father went to the...er...royal vault to fetch them, he discovered that they had been stolen. And glass beads left in the place where they were kept.’

  ‘They’d been copied?’

  ‘Yes. And the King was furious. So furious that he forbade anyone to speak of it, on pain of death.’

  ‘That was a bit harsh.’

  ‘He was a tyrant,’ she said with feeling. ‘I believe kings in fairy tales often are.’

  Harriet had to pause in her narrative at that point since the waiter returned with their order and spent some time setting out the pots and cups on the surprisingly clean table.

  Once he’d gone, Lord Becconsall leaned forward and murmured, ‘Go on. I have a notion you are just getting to the interesting part.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know that it was more interesting than having the rubies switched for glass beads. But anyway, the King decided that it must have been the Queen who was guilty and had her put in the pillory! Which, of course, made the Princess very unhappy. And angered some of the courtiers, who loved the Queen and didn’t like to see her humiliated in that fashion. So, anyway, one of them, who owed the Queen a very great debt,’ she said, lowering her gaze and fiddling with the strings of her reticule, ‘decided she would find out who had really stolen the rubies, so she could clear the Queen’s name. The King was furious.’ She glanced back up at Lord Becconsall. ‘When he found out she had been asking questions, first of all he locked her in her room—’

  Lord Becconsall stiffened. ‘Locked you—I mean, her, in her room? How could he?’

  ‘I did say he was a tyrant.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘And it wasn’t as bad as all that. She only missed one meal. And the Queen brought her some books and things to read. And, actually, it did some good, you know, because it won her some favour with the servants. I mean,’ she hastily corrected herself, ‘the other courtiers. And it made them all want to help her clear the Queen’s name.

  ‘But then, when he found out that people were starting to flout his orders he—the King—um...banished her from court, and sent her to...er... Well, anyway, she found a place where she was safe from the King’s wrath. Only...she still wanted to find out who had stolen those jewels, so she thought she’d hire some...er...’

  ‘Wizards?’ said Lord Becconsall, helpfully.

  ‘Well, she did think they might be sort of magicians,’ she admitted, thinking about the reputation of the Bow Street Runners. ‘Only she wasn’t sure if she could trust them. And she was a bit...’ She lifted her spoon and stirred her chocolate, which Lord Becconsall had ordered for her. And how he’d managed to correctly guess exactly what she’d wanted, without even asking, was beyond her. ‘A bit afraid of them, to be honest,’ she admitted, fumbling her spoon into her saucer with a clatter.

  ‘Well, those wizards probably lived in an enchanted forest, into which it was perilous to enter.’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ she said, grateful that he’d understood.

  ‘What she needed was to find a soldier.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Yes.’ He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of the one that had just been occupied with her spoon. ‘You know very often in those kinds of stories, the Princess comes across a ragged soldier, who turns out to be able to complete the quest on her behalf.’

  ‘She isn’t a princess,’ Harriet pointed out.

  ‘She looks like one to the raggedy soldier,’ he said, running his fingers over the back of her knuckles.

  Harriet flushed. All the way to her toes. It was a very strange feeling, having a man’s bare hand caress her own bare hand. She couldn’t think why it should be so, but it was having almost as much effect upon her as being held in his arms had done. ‘Are we still talking about the...the story?’

  ‘Do you want us to be?’

  To her surprise, she rather did. It was far easier to talk about that, than what his light touch was doing to her insides. To admit she wished he would kiss her, the way he’d kissed her that morning. Besides, now that she’d started to tell him about the missing rubies, and what had been happening since she’d decided to find out where they’d gone, it was as though a great weight was sliding from her shoulders. And telling it half-concealed in the language of fairy tales was making it easier still.

  However, her life was not a fairy tale. And if she wanted to get anywhere with her investigation, she was going to need practical help, not the laughing eyes of a born flirt distracting her from her purpose.

  She pulled her hand out from under his and tucked it safely in her lap.

  Lord Becconsall let her do so, but pushed his cup to one side, laid both elbows on the table, and leaned as far across the table as he could.

  ‘Do you—I mean did the lady who was loyal to the Queen have any clues, perchance? It would make the soldier’s quest much easier if she could give him, say, a map...’

  ‘And a bottle of magic potion with which to send the dragons to sleep?’

  Lord Becconsall chuckled. ‘Just a map would be a start. With a map, and his own cunning, I reckon that soldier could find out who’d taken the jewels.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you? You are very sure of yourself
.’

  He quirked one eyebrow at her.

  ‘I meant to say, of course, the soldier was very sure of himself. But, as it happens, I do have—I mean to say, the lady did have one clue, given to her by...the keeper of the royal vault.’

  She couldn’t have said that he moved, exactly, but something came over him. A sort of watchfulness. As though he was fully alert to whatever she might say next.

  ‘Go on,’ he said, when she paused.

  ‘Yes, just as I, that is she, the courtier, was leaving the castle, the...um...keeper of the vault managed to whisper a name in her ear. It was the name of a person who had worked, for a very brief time, in the Queen’s own chamber. And the name of the village from whence she came. And actually,’ she said, putting her hand to the reticule in which she’d put the paper on which she’d written down everything Maud had told her, ‘the name of the person who’d given her the reference to get the job in the first place. I would have thought, wouldn’t you, that the person who’d sent Jenny to work for...um...the Queen, would be the one who now had the jewels, wouldn’t you? The only problem is...’

  ‘Is?’

  ‘Well, she appears to be beyond reproach. I’ve already asked, discreetly, what kind of person she is,’ she said, forgetting to hide the events behind the cloak of her fairy tale, ‘and according to Mama she is an elderly recluse.’

  ‘Don’t you mean, a witch living in the centre of an enchanted forest?’

  ‘No,’ she said irritably. ‘I can’t keep up with all these fairy-tale analogies. And besides, haven’t we already had an enchanted forest in this story?’

  He chuckled. ‘Indeed we have. So, would you prefer to let me give you time to think up a more original scenario? Or...’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or would you rather just forget all about kings and wizards and enchanted forests, and just tell me what is really going on?’

  She sighed. ‘I suppose I might as well. You’ve probably already worked out who the major characters in the story are.’

  ‘They weren’t exactly in heavy disguise.’

  ‘No, well, I’ve never had to try to make my life sound like some kind of fairy tale before. And you didn’t exactly give me much time to do so, did you? So...’ She shrugged. ‘Do you think you might be able to help me?’