A pity Emily was so poor at prognostication!
Chapter 16
Philip stepped inside the doorway at Lady Jersey’s household and immediately realized it had been a mistake not to accompany the Ashbourne party. He would never find them in this crush! Or so he feared. But given how swiftly gossip of his interest in Miss Ashbourne had somehow spread, he had thought it prudent to arrive separately.
He paid his respects to Lady Jersey, flirting with her just as she most liked, and coaxing from her the information that the Ashbournes were here before him. He refused to satisfy her curiosity about the family but salvaged his credit with her by promising to come by with a particularly salacious piece of gossip later in the week.
Then he set about finding Miss Ashbourne and her aunt with grim determination. There were too many pitfalls for a green girl from the country to leave her here on her own for very long.
He had just started looking when a familiar voice hailed him. “Philip!”
“James.”
“George is here.”
Three simple words. Enough to send a chill through Philip. He shook it off. What odds did it make to him if his brother chose to come to this affair? So long as George didn’t encounter Miss Ashbourne, of course, and he rather thought that she would have the sense to stay out of his brother’s way.
A look at James’s face ought to have been sufficient to warn Philip he was wrong.
“He’s here with Athenia and he is looking for your Miss Ashbourne,” James said in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because, dear brother,” James said with a mixture of affection and exasperation in his voice, “apparently George and Athenia have heard rumors that some female, by the name of Miss Ashbourne, has you in her clutches and they have come to see if she is a suitable bride for a Langford.”
Philip went very pale. “How long have they been here?” he asked. “And have they found her yet?”
James shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest notion since I don’t know what she looks like either.”
He paused, then added, a mischievous note to his voice, “Nor does George seem to realize that this Miss Ashbourne is the one he had thrown in Bedlam. I shall give a great deal to see his face when he does.”
Philip didn’t wait to hear any more. He began moving through the crowd, looking for Miss Ashbourne or Miss Jarrod or Mr. Ashbourne. His height, which was above average, gave him some advantage, but not enough. And to his irritation, he realized James was following him.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Philip turned and asked his brother.
James grinned unrepentantly. “I want to see what happens when you all meet up together. Besides, I need to tell you about Harry.”
That stopped Philip. He looked swiftly around then said, in an undervoice, “What about Harry?”
James also glanced swiftly about and pitched his voice low so that only Philip could hear. “He said to tell you he will meet you at your town house after Lady Jersey’s ball. He also told me,” he added as Philip turned to head for the door, “to tell you to stay as long as you would if you didn’t know he was in town. He says it’s important that you do so. No one is to know he is back. Not yet, at any rate.”
Philip nodded. His first impulse was to rush straight home. But if Harry said it was important that he not do so, he surely had a good and sufficient reason. In any event, there was still the question of what would happen when his brother found Miss Ashbourne and realized who she was. And, perhaps even more serious, when she realized that Lord Darton was his brother.
The image conjured up by such a disastrous circumstance was sufficient to cause Philip to redouble his efforts to find her.
* * * *
Lord Darton did not often attend balls. He was scarcely dangling for a wife, having Athenia already. And his children were not yet of an age to require that he take them about to such things. So it was with gratifying warmth that he was greeted by acquaintances as he moved about Lady Jersey’s ballroom.
It took, therefore, longer than expected to discover the whereabouts of the unknown Miss Ashbourne. The name nagged at him and he had the feeling he ought to know it. But if so, he could not recall the circumstances.
It was not that the affair with the deranged girl had slipped his mind, precisely, but even at the time he had paid very little attention to who she claimed to be and rather more to how he could be rid of her. So it was not until he was face to face with the girl that he realized the enormity of the disaster in which he found himself.
Not that he believed Philip to have a romantic interest in the girl. He discarded that notion the moment he realized who she was. Obviously Athenia had gotten matters all wrong!
No, George was certain Miss Ashbourne must somehow be a client of Philip’s and now he recalled the way his brother had rushed off straightway after he told him the story of having the girl carted off to Bedlam. The devil take it, why must his brother take every stray creature under his wing, anyway?
By his side, Athenia was greeting Miss Ashbourne and her companion. To George’s surprise, the older woman’s name was familiar to his wife.
“Miss Jarrod? How do you do. I am Lady Darton. I believe my mother once knew you. She was then Corinda Matthews.”
“Yes, of course I remember Corinda!” the older woman said, with a cry of delight. “And so you are her daughter? May I present my niece, Miss Emily Ashbourne?”
“How do you do,” Athenia said graciously.
George knew, however, that her sharp eyes would miss nothing of the girl’s appearance. What would she say when he told her this was the girl he had had thrown into Bedlam? The very thought made him shudder. Perhaps Miss Ashbourne wouldn’t remember?
And to make matters worse, Sir Thomas Levenger was standing beside Miss Jarrod and appeared to be acquainted with her as well. It only wanted that! Let him get wind of what George had done and the elder man was likely to ring a peal over his head. Sir Thomas seemed to forget that Darton had long since reached his majority and had no need of Levenger’s oversight.
If only he hadn’t had the girl taken off to Bedlam! But he’d been so sure she was mad. And not really a lady. What lady would have behaved as she did, or spouted such absurd nonsense? It wasn’t his fault, surely, that he had mistaken the situation. And perhaps, he thought again, she wouldn’t remember.
It was a forlorn hope. Already Athenia was turning toward him and saying, “I must make you both known to my husband, Lord Darton.”
He bowed, they curtsied. Miss Ashbourne’s eyes widened first in disbelief, then narrowed in suspicion. Darton’s only consolation was that matters couldn’t get much worse. Except, of course, that they did. His first intimation of just how bad they were going to be was when Athenia said, “Ah, Miss Ashbourne, here are two of my husband’s brothers: Mr. James Langford and Mr. Philip Langford.”
With a sinking sensation, Darton noted the way Philip greeted Miss Ashbourne, with every evidence of familiarity. And James had that glint in his eye which was enough to tell George that he, too, knew this was the girl who had been carted off to Bedlam. Both turned to regard him quizzically and he realized they did not mean to make matters easy for him. Indeed they were likely to revel in his discomfiture.
Only Sir Thomas was regarding him merely with mild curiosity. But already his shrewd eyes were taking note of how the others were looking at George and he was no doubt drawing his own conclusions.
Abruptly George decided to go on the offensive. He was the head of the family and they ought to respect that fact. He would not apologize for what he had done, but rather expect Philip to apologize for becoming involved with a young lady who could only be trouble.
Or rather, he would have gone on the offensive had Miss Ashbourne not done so first. She was regarding Philip with a grim look on her face. Through clenched teeth she said, “Is this your brother? How odd that you never said a word to the point when you must know I had an interest in Lo
rd Darton’s role in the House of Lords.”
Philip colored up nicely and George might have permitted himself to enjoy his brother’s discomfort if Athenia had not hissed to him, “An interest in the House of Lords? Why, my dear Miss Ashbourne, whatever could you mean? It is hardly the place of a young lady to be concerned with such things.”
Emily did not even try to hide her contempt. “Nonetheless, I am,” she said. “As Lord Darton is aware.”
Athenia looked at her husband, affronted. “What is she talking about? How do you know her, George?”
There was no time to explain. Not in detail. Not with so many people around. As it was, they were beginning to attract attention.
George did the only thing he could think of. He gave James a little nudge and said, “Why don’t you ask Miss Ashbourne to dance?”
James glared at him, but his manners, at least, were too good to permit him to refuse to ask the girl. He bowed, she hesitated, then allowed him to lead her away. That left Athenia and Philip both regarding him with expressions of displeasure on their faces. Sir Thomas and Miss Jarrod were even worse. They both looked as if they were about to read him a scold. Perhaps Sir Thomas knew more than he thought, after all.
Hastily, Darton said, “Perhaps we ought to take a turn about the room, Philip? Athenia? Getting deuced warm in here!”
That recollected everyone, as George hoped it would, to the interested ears all about. After a moment Athenia nodded and placed her hand on his arm.
“As usual,” she said, with creditable calm, “you are right.”
Philip took a moment longer, then he, too, nodded curtly and said, “A turn about the room would be an excellent notion.”
“Yes, a turn about the room would be an excellent notion,” Sir Thomas said, with great meaning in his voice. “I’ve no doubt you have a great many things to talk about. And I wish to dance with Miss Jarrod.”
George was actually rather impressed that his impetuous brother managed to make it three-quarters of the way around the room, smiling and nodding to acquaintances, before he gave way to his temper.
“What the devil were you doing, troubling Miss Ashbourne again?” Philip demanded.
“Again?” Athenia echoed.
“Bedlam,” George told his wife succinctly.
Athenia was not a stupid woman. Indeed, she prided herself on her understanding, though she was not so unfeminine as to aspire to the title of bluestocking. She grasped what he meant. And, as always, came to his defense. She rounded on Philip, though softly and careful not to draw the attention of those nearby.
“How dare you, sir, consort with a female so likely to embroil us in scandal? How dare you consort with a woman who must be locked up to protect her from herself?”
Athenia did have a tendency to press matters too far, George thought with an inward shudder, and this was one of those times. If he did not say something quickly, Philip was likely to enact a scene and not care a farthing who overheard what.
“I collect I was mistaken in the matter of her wits?” George said before Philip could give way to his rage.
That stopped the barrister, as George knew it would. He opened and closed his mouth several times, even as Athenia pinched Darton’s arm. George ignored her and waited for Philip to speak.
Finally Philip said, “Yes, you were mistaken.”
George allowed himself to sigh out loud. “I thought so. Pity. Ought to apologize to the girl.”
“Yes, you should,” Philip agreed, beginning to relax.
George went in for the kill. “I shall apologize to Miss Ashbourne,” he said softly, “if you will apologize for so far forgetting what is due your family that you allow your name to be linked with hers! No, don’t interrupt. I have agreed she did not belong in Bedlam. But that does not mean I wish to have her name linked with ours. Mad or not, her behavior outside of White’s was completely unacceptable, far outside the boundaries of what is right and proper for a lady. Whether she is a hoyden or worse, her name ought not to be linked with ours. And I tell you frankly, they are laying bets as to whether you will marry her!”
Philip went white then red then white again. Finally, when George stopped speaking, he took his turn. He could not, after all, resist the opportunity with which his brother had presented him.
In a cold, calm voice that was more convincing than any shouting would have been, he said, “I am betrothed to Miss Ashbourne, though we have not yet made it public knowledge, and I suggest you begin to accustom yourself to the notion. I tell you right now that I will not tolerate any disrespect of the lady. Not now, not ever.”
Then, before George could collect his wits and remonstrate further, Philip turned on his heel and walked away. He retained sufficient presence of mind to ask a young lady at random to dance, but George would have wagered he didn’t even see her face or know with whom he was speaking.
With a sinking sense of dread, he realized his brother was smitten even worse than he feared. By his side, Athenia agreed.
“We must detach him from her. I shan’t say it will be easy, for it is clear he has a tendre for the girl. Most unsuitable, but there it is. Your brother has always been a difficult man. No sense of what is due his position, or yours. I often fear he has inherited your father’s instability of character. You must know I had great difficulty persuading my father that you had not done so. Well, I shall simply have to set to work at once to make him, to make both of them realize the impossibility of such a match.”
Those words were sufficient to set a chill in Lord Darton’s soul. But he did not dare remonstrate with Athenia. His wife was a formidable woman. Just how formidable he had not realized until it was too late to draw back. And most of the time, if he were honest, George was glad she was.
But tonight her words frightened him. He only wished he could believe they would have the power to frighten Philip.
Chapter 17
Philip was grateful, when he left Sally Jersey’s ball, that he had a purpose to going home. He had had very little chance to speak with Miss Ashbourne further. She had made certain of that. He knew she was angry with him and wished she would give him the chance to explain. But she had not. He would have fretted much more had he not had Harry on his mind.
The town house was dark, with only a few candles lit to welcome him back, just as he preferred it to be. So there was no indication, nothing to tell him whether Harry really was here or not.
But James had said he would be, and James was seldom wrong. About anything. Well, it would be just like Harry to prefer secrecy.
Philip entered his house and behaved precisely as he would if he thought no one were there. Just as Harry’s instructions, conveyed by way of James, had said he should. He relinquished his hat and gloves and cloak to the one footman waiting up for him and proceeded upstairs. He allowed his valet to partially undress him and he then put on a dressing gown. Finally he padded back downstairs and into the library, as though he had a desire to find something to read.
And there, just as he expected, Philip found Harry waiting for him in the dark, the room lit only by the remains of the carefully banked fire that had all but died out this cool spring night.
Carefully Philip closed the door behind him and came forward into the room, lighting candles as he went.
“Not too many,” Harry cautioned.
“No one can see in these windows, particularly not with the draperies drawn,” Philip scoffed.
“Yes, but would you light so many candles just for yourself?” Harry demanded. “Or will the servants wonder in the morning?”
Philip hesitated, then nodded and blew out half of those he had already lit and chose with care the few remaining ones he would have used had he been in the library alone.
When both he and Harry were satisfied, the two brothers embraced. Then they stepped back and took chairs facing one another.
“Why the need for such secrecy?” Philip asked.
Harry shrugged and turned his hand one way, then
the other. Which meant he either could not or would not answer. Philip leaned back, knowing Harry would explain what he could in his own time and there was no point in trying to rush his brother. Besides, even in this dim light he could see that Harry looked exhausted.
“It looks as if there have been some horrible battles, of late,” Philip said quietly.
Harry regarded his brother with a bleak look in his eyes. “The worst, so far, that I’ve seen. Too many of my friends have died, Philip. And the devil is, we think it was because someone is giving information to the enemy.”
Philip drew in a deep breath. “Is that why you’re back home? Trying to find out about the spy? Is that why you asked me to find out about a man named Canfield?”
“Have you?” The words came quickly, eagerly.
“A little. Nothing that would help you. But he was betrothed to a lady I know. What do you need me to find out? Or are you here to investigate him yourself?”
Harry shook his head. “I wish I was. No, I’m little more than a glorified messenger boy. But a trusted one and that’s more than can be said about some. Still, Canfield might become suspicious if I were to ask questions about him or his mills or try to inspect one.”
Philip had a fairly strong notion that his brother’s modest assessment of himself greatly understated the matter, but he did not challenge it. Instead he said, “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“I should like you to visit Canfield’s mills and look for certain things I shall tell you about in a moment. I have yet to think of a plausible reason, but between us we should be able to come up with something,” Harry replied with a frown.
Philip’s eyes narrowed. “You may safely leave that to me,” he said. “I think I know how the trick might be done.”
It was a measure of the trust between the brothers that Harry did not doubt Philip’s word. He merely nodded.
“What is it you wish me to look for?” Philip persisted.
Harry leaned forward and in a few words explained as much as he could. “We think someone is supplying the French with our uniforms so that their spies can pass undetected through our lines.”
The Reckless Barrister Page 13