‘Because the blasted woman didn’t even notice. She should be taking far better care of you. But she never has done, has she?’
‘No, but only think, Jack. If she’d been a strict parent, then we would never have met, would we? Because she would have taught me to behave properly and I would never have gone riding in the park.’
‘Yes, there is that,’ he conceded. ‘But...to leave you alone in the room, with me just now. I mean, I could be anybody. I could be a...an evil seducer, intent on having my wicked way with you!’
‘I was rather hoping you were.’
He gave her a stern frown. Which didn’t fool her one bit, since he hadn’t managed to prevent his eyes from twinkling. ‘Young lady, if you cannot tell the difference between a rake who is intent only upon his own pleasure and a man who is making love to the woman he intends to marry and spend the rest of his life with, then...’
‘Then?’
‘Then I had better show you.’
‘Ooh...’ She sighed. ‘Please do.’
Epilogue
‘But, Harriet, I really don’t understand...’ Aunt Susan twisted the strings of her reticule. ‘I thought you wished me to help you purchase bride clothes, not—’
‘Well, yes, I do want your help with that.’ And it had been the one thing guaranteed to soften Uncle Hugo’s stance on their associating with each other. When Harriet had written to tell him she had become engaged and needed her aunt’s help with shopping for the wedding, his reply had been swift, and tinged, predictably, with a touch of gloating that she felt obliged to ask her aunt to perform that office, rather than be able to rely on her own mother. ‘Just not today,’ Harriet explained. ‘Or perhaps, later on. After,’ she said, wriggling across the seat of the carriage in preparation for getting out, ‘we have finished with Lord Rawcliffe.’
Getting out of the carriage did the trick. Her aunt, who’d been displaying such reluctance to be seen anywhere near the house which took up such a large slice of Grosvenor Square, girded up her mental loins and set out after her niece.
‘It is most inappropriate for you to be calling upon such a man,’ she said in an urgent undertone. ‘Even if he is a close friend of your betrothed.’
Her curiosity piqued, Harriet delayed informing her aunt that her betrothed would also be at the meeting he’d arranged. She’d always wondered what it was about Lord Rawcliffe that set her aunt against him as a matrimonial prospect for Kitty. And there was no better time to find out than now.
‘What do you mean, such a man? He seems perfectly respectable to me.’
‘Oh, it is not a question of that,’ said Aunt Susan, panting up the front steps after her. ‘It is just that he has a reputation with...that is, I have lost count of the number of hopeful females who have dashed themselves to pieces against the hardness of his heart.’
‘You mean, women throw themselves at him? Whatever for?’
‘Because he is a matrimonial prize. Or at least, he was considered so, when he was younger. And he still is, in many respects,’ said Aunt Susan, jerking her head at the imposing façade of his house in a meaningful way. ‘It is just that careful mothers keep their daughters away from him. He won’t marry anyone who looks the slightest bit...’
‘Desperate?’ When her aunt merely pursed her lips and shook her head as though words failed her, Harriet tried another one. ‘Fast?’
‘I think,’ said Aunt Susan slowly, as though choosing her words with care, ‘it is more likely that when he does marry, it will be a woman of his own choosing, rather than one who has thrown herself at him. Well, you saw the way Lord Lensborough reacted when those silly girls threw themselves at his head, at the picnic.’
‘At his feet, don’t you mean?’
‘Harriet,’ Aunt Susan said repressively. ‘The point is, men who are as high in the instep as Lensborough, or Rawcliffe, only ever marry girls of good character, with an impeccable lineage and a fortune to match their own.’
He would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life then. Not that she could say as much, when the front door was being opened by exactly the kind of butler she would guess a man as full of his own consequence as Zeus would employ.
In spite of telling Harriet that setting foot inside Lord Rawcliffe’s house was tantamount to committing some sort of social faux pas, Aunt Susan’s eyes flicked round, taking in every inch of the immense hall, the portraits on the walls, the moulding round the doors, the little tables set at strategic points to display their collection of probably priceless urns and dishes, during the short walk across the hall behind the butler.
‘Lady Tarbrook, Lady Harriet Inskip,’ said the butler, as he opened the door, before stepping aside and making the slightest inclination of his head to let them know they should go in.
‘Harriet!’ Jack had been lounging against the mantelpiece, but the moment he saw her, his face lit up with such obvious pleasure it was impossible not to smile back. Especially since he flew to her side and seized her hands as though he meant to haul her close and kiss her.
She squeezed his hands back, then tilted her head sideways, to remind him that her aunt was standing right there.
‘And Lady Tarbrook,’ said Jack, finally recalling his manners. ‘Thank you both for coming.’
‘I...well, not at all,’ said Aunt Susan, clearly bewildered, but determined not to let on that Harriet had virtually ambushed her.
‘Please, do take a seat,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, gesturing to a sofa set at a slight angle to the fireplace. He had been standing right next to Jack, Harriet realised, though she hadn’t really noticed him before. As Aunt Susan did as she’d been told, Harriet dropped a brief curtsy to acknowledge her host, then she and Jack gravitated to the sofa opposite her aunt’s and sat down together, still holding hands.
‘You know Mr Kellett,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, indicating Archie, who was sitting on a chair by one of the windows overlooking the rear to the house, his hands clasped in his lap.
Aunt Susan accorded him a regal nod.
‘Then, I shall ring for tea,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, going across to the bell pull by the fireplace.
There then followed a short interlude, during which Lord Rawcliffe kept the conversation at the most banal of levels, whilst they ordered, then waited for the refreshments to arrive. Aunt Susan did her best to look as though it was perfectly normal to pay a morning call upon an unmarried gentleman. But Harriet noticed how uneasy she was from the way she twined the strings of her reticule round her fingers so tightly that when it came time to remove her gloves, she was hard pressed to untangle them.
But at length, the moment that Harriet had been waiting for finally arrived. Just as they were all on their second cup of tea and the cakes had been reduced to crumbs, she heard the sound of the final, and most important guest of all, knock on the front door.
Only seconds later, Lord Rawcliffe’s butler opened the door again, and, as all eyes swung to look at him, he announced, ‘Lord Tarbrook.’
Aunt Susan started and dropped her teaspoon into her saucer with a tinkle. Fortunately, nobody but Harriet noticed this, because at the exact same moment, Lord Tarbrook was saying, ‘Cannot imagine what business you have with me that you consider so urgent, Rawcliffe. Good God. Susan!’
By now, Aunt Susan had composed herself and was able to greet his incredulity at finding her there with the mere raising of one eyebrow, as if to convey she had every right to be there.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ said Lord Tarbrook, darting dagger glances round the room.
‘Would you care for some tea?’ Lord Rawcliffe asked mildly.
‘The devil take your tea. What I want is an explanation.’
‘And you shall have it,’ said Lord Rawcliffe, waving a slender hand to another chair, inviting the latest arrival to sit on it.
&nbs
p; Lord Tarbrook drew his brows down and leaned on his cane, as though declaring his refusal to accept the hospitality of a man who had engineered a meeting with his wife in such an underhand manner.
‘As you wish,’ said Lord Rawcliffe as though he perfectly understood. ‘Becconsall, perhaps you would like to conduct the next part of this meeting?’
‘Yes. Absolutely,’ said Jack, getting to his feet. ‘It’s like this, my lord. Harriet, that is, Lady Harriet, my betrothed, has naturally confided in me about the rift that occurred between you over the matter of the missing jewels.’
‘She did what?’ Lord Tarbrook turned his attention to her. And threw her his most repressive glare.
‘And it turns out that there has been a similar case in the family of our mutual friend, Mr Kellett,’ said Jack, drawing Lord Tarbrook’s attention to the figure sitting mute by the window.
‘What?’ Lord Tarbrook looked from one man to the other in confusion.
‘Yes,’ said Archie, finally getting to his feet. ‘When my g-grandmother died, my father found that some of her jewels were not the genuine article. C-couldn’t find any trace of gambling debts. Thought it must have been a private wager. Had them c-copied to raise the blunt. Hushed it up.’
‘What!’
‘Then, when we heard about the same thing happening in your own family, started wondering if...’
‘You heard about... How did you... Harriet!’ Lord Tarbrook whirled on her, his fury pouring off him in waves.
‘Started asking a few qu-questions,’ carried on Archie, ignoring Lord Tarbrook’s outburst. ‘T-turned out she had a maid with her during her last illness who matched the description of one employed by Lady Tarbrook.’
‘What?’ Now it was Lady Tarbrook’s turn to express shock.
‘More to the point, she’d c-come to my g-grandmother’s notice through an old friend of hers. Lady B-Buntingford.’
‘Oh!’ Aunt Susan clapped a hand to her chest. ‘I took on a girl recommended to me by Lady Buntingford. As a favour. But that must have been...well, it was a few years ago.’
‘We believe,’ said Jack, ‘that is when the switch of your rubies must have taken place.’
‘You mean...’ Aunt Susan was heaving for breath.
‘Yes. We believe you have been the victim of a very cleverly orchestrated crime.’
‘Lady Buntingford?’ Aunt Susan was shaking her head. ‘No. I cannot believe it. She would not...’
‘All we know so far,’ said Jack, ‘is that she has been the link between the families who have had jewels switched and the girl who appears to have done the switching. We will need to investigate further to discover—’
‘No!’ Uncle Hugo thumped his cane on the floor. ‘No investigation. I will not have my family’s reputation dragged through the mire.’
‘There will be no need for that,’ said Lord Rawcliffe repressively. ‘Archie will be going to Dorset on a visit to Lady Buntingford, who is his mother’s godmother, to discreetly ask her a few questions. It won’t arouse any suspicion outside our own circle. Nothing more natural for a man in his position to spend part of his holidays visiting such a woman. Particularly not when she happens to live in such a beautiful part of the country.’
‘And what part, pray, do you play in all of this? What makes you think you have the right to become so busy in my family affairs?’
‘I will be pursuing the girl who appears to have done the actual thieving,’ said Lord Rawcliffe. ‘Since I plan to go to the area from which we have reason to believe she hales, in a few days in any case, my own movements should not alert anyone to the fact that there is an investigation taking place.’
‘I don’t like it,’ grumbled Uncle Hugo.
‘That is what the thieves want, though, isn’t it?’ put in Harriet. ‘For everyone to be so determined to cover up the crime that they get away with it. And we can’t let them get away with it. We can’t!’
‘You don’t seriously expect to apprehend the culprits, do you? After all this time? And as for thinking you will ever be able to recover the jewels...’ He shook his head.
‘It isn’t a question of recovering the jewels,’ said Harriet. ‘But of seeing justice done. Of clearing Aunt Susan’s name. Proving her innocent!’
‘Hugo,’ said Aunt Susan. ‘What these gentlemen have just told us...the lengths to which they are prepared to go...well, you know what this means, don’t you?’ She got to her feet.
‘What does it mean?’ he replied testily.
‘It means,’ she said coldly, ‘that you owe me an apology.’
Everyone in the room held their breath, or at least that was how it seemed to Harriet. Everyone except Uncle Hugo, who was glaring down at the head of his cane and heaving in great heavy breaths as though they were all sorely trying his patience. He rapped the cane on the floor once or twice, his face working.
Harriet braced herself for an explosion.
But then he sighed. Raised his head to look at Aunt Susan. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I do.’
Aunt Susan, who clearly hadn’t expected him to admit any such thing, especially not so quickly, sat down rather abruptly.
‘I...overreacted, I suppose that is what you all think. But...’ he glared defiantly round the room ‘...I saw it as evidence.’
‘Evidence?’ Aunt Susan was glaring right back at him. ‘Of what?’
He sighed again. And shrugged, in a rather sulky sort of way. ‘Well, you only married me because our parents pushed you into it. And you never gave me any sign that...’ He trailed off, going rather red about the ears.
‘That what?’
‘No matter what I did you never...cared.’ He straightened up, almost defiantly, and focused intently on his wife. ‘You never gave any indication that you returned my feelings.’
‘Your feelings?’
As the middle-aged couple stared at each other, Harriet could see a maelstrom of emotion playing across their faces. And she recalled the list of grievances her aunt had poured forth about Uncle Hugo’s behaviour, over the breakfast table.
And wondered if he’d been doing exactly what Jack had done to her. Acted badly, to try to get her attention.
Well, Uncle Hugo had certainly got Aunt Susan’s attention now. The pair of them were looking at each other as though they’d completely forgotten anyone else was in the room.
Lord Rawcliffe cleared his throat, and, when Harriet looked his way, saw that he was gesturing to the door.
With a smile tugging at her lips, Harriet took Jack’s arm, and followed Lord Rawcliffe and Archie out. Neither her aunt nor her uncle appeared to notice they were leaving, though neither of them had said anything, yet. Not that they needed to. Everything they were thinking was plain for anyone to see.
‘I wonder,’ said Jack, as Lord Rawcliffe shut the door behind them, ‘which of them will be the first to break down and admit they’ve been secretly in love with the other for years.’
‘I think it might well be Uncle Hugo,’ said Harriet. ‘After all, he almost went too far this time, the way he treated my aunt. He has a lot of apologising to do, and I dare say even he will have worked out, by now, that the best way to gain forgiveness is to admit that he loves her. And after that, she will admit that she loves him, too, and then—’
‘Please, no more,’ said Lord Rawcliffe with a shudder. ‘I may never be able to look at that particular sofa with anything but revulsion again. In fact,’ he said, pushing open the door to another room, which looked as though it might be his private study, ‘I may well simply throw it out and get a new one.’
The thought of what he suspected Uncle Hugo and Aunt Susan of being about to get up to on his sofa, that would make him wish to destroy it, seemed to amuse Jack no end.
But Harriet thought it was rather sweet.
‘I hope,’ she whispered up to Jack, while Lord Rawcliffe was busy pouring himself a drink from a decanter that stood on a side table, ‘that we are still as much in love as they are, when we reach their age.’
‘You can count on it,’ Jack replied, giving her waist a squeeze. ‘Though I shan’t be such a nodcock as to leave you ignorant of my own feelings for so many years.’
‘No?’
‘No. I plan to tell you, at least once every day, that you are the light of my life and that I love you more than...’
‘More than what?’
‘More than anything, of course.’
Harriet sighed with pure contentment. At last, she mattered to someone.
More than anything.
* * * * *
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The Major Meets His Match Page 23