“Couldn’t they just be stealing uniforms? From prisoners? Or even dead men?” Philip asked with a frown.
Harry hesitated. “We have reason to believe the uniforms they wear are new. And we think Canfield is supplying them to the French.”
Philip drew in his breath with an audible sound.
“Just so,” Harry agreed. “And the military has agreed to pretend to order new uniforms from Canfield to see if he ships some to the French.”
“And then let the French use them and no one else so you can spot the spies easily?” Philip suggested.
Harry grimaced. “You would think so. But the order was placed and now those in charge have said they intend to actually have our men use the uniforms as well, rather than let them go to waste. And because they fear that if there is some leak elsewhere in the ministry, the French will be warned off. So unless we intercept the entire shipment, some spies will use them and slip through our lines unsuspected. But it’s my friends and I who will die because of bureaucratic obstinacy! A pity there’s no way to mark the uniforms that will get through, but they will not even give me approval to try.”
Harry paused and seemed to make an effort to collect himself. Finally, he said, “What I should like is for you to find an excuse, if you can, to travel into the countryside to visit Canfield’s mills. See if you can discover the route by which he passes the uniforms to the smugglers who will take them to the French. But be careful! And above all, give Canfield no hint of what you are about.”
Philip nodded his comprehension. “I understand. But what are we to say when asked why you are here in London?”
“No one is to know any message has been sent back here,” Harry answered slowly, “so no one must know or guess that that is the purpose of my visit. Or that we mean to find out about Canfield. When I publicly arrive, tomorrow, it will be because my oldest brother has summoned me home to deal with a family crisis. You.”
“Me?” Philip echoed, taken aback.
Harry grinned. “Yes, you. It seems you’ve taken up with a most unlikely creature and if we don’t all take a hand to stop you, you’ll bring shame down upon the family. Now since I must suppose that you have already, publicly no doubt, flaunted the creature before George, no one will doubt my story. Particularly not if you pretend to be serious about the girl and George continues to make clear his displeasure in the possible match.”
Philip frowned and shook his head slowly. “You’ve spoken to George already? But I would have sworn he didn’t know, before tonight, that she was the same girl he had thrown into Bedlam.”
Harry gave a tiny crow of laughter. “I knew I was right! The rumor mill was not mistaken. You are involved with a most ineligible creature! And George does disapprove. And I’ll wager you all but came to blows tonight, in public!”
Philip merely glared at his brother and, after a moment, Harry said, “I have not yet spoken to George but I shall ask him to pretend he sent for me because he was worried about you. With George, there is no need to tell him anything more. He will play his part well enough without any prodding from me.”
“And how am I supposed to respond to your presence in London?” Philip asked dryly.
Harry waved a careless hand. “You resent it. You resent my interference and George for requesting it. I, of course, pay no attention to your disapproval. Together we shall contrive to drive you out of London. And while you are in the country, perhaps you can find the chance to visit Canfield’s mill. Between us, we shall give the gossipmongers such a show that no one will think to wonder at how long or short I stay. And when I am ready to return to the front lines, why, we shall come to terms and I shall gracefully withdraw, satisfied that I have made you come to your senses.”
“And if you have not?” Philip asked softly.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Do you mean you are serious about the girl?” he asked in astonishment.
“I don’t know,” Philip replied irritably, rising to his feet and beginning to pace about the room. “This girl, as you call her, is the one who was betrothed to Canfield. I shall make an excuse to escort her to her home and let her show me his mills. She is, you see, an ardent reformer. I shall let her think she is beginning to persuade me around to her point of view.”
“Famous! It will answer perfectly,” Harry said with a note of awe in his voice.
Philip paused in his pacing and frowned. “I am not so sure. I do not like making Miss Ashbourne such an object of conjecture. I have done more of that than I like already. Nor do I wish to place her in any danger. Perhaps I ought not to involve her.”
“Well, I cannot answer that question for you,” Harry said dryly, “but at least I now know that your heart is clearly engaged.”
“And if it is?” Philip challenged.
Harry hesitated, then shrugged. “The Devil’s in it, then. I thought the girl was merely a means to annoy George, but patently she is not. Well, I suppose I shall have to either pretend I have found Miss Ashbourne acceptable or decided to gracefully retire from the lists, having persuaded myself there is nothing I can do to dissuade you from your disastrous course. Either way, it will suffice and no one will be the wiser as to my true purpose in being here, in London.”
“Including me, I suppose,” Philip said wryly. “No, don’t bother to try to gammon me with any more tales. I shan’t ask you any more questions and you shan’t have to tell me any more lies. It is enough to have you here, to know you are safe, and to have a little time with you before you must go back. And yes, much as I dislike it, I shall use Miss Ashbourne as a ruse to visit Canfield’s mills but I shall make certain that he does not blame her if anything should go wrong.”
“I knew I could count on you!”
Harry smiled and a message of affection passed between them, conveyed more eloquently by the way they looked at one another than words could ever have done. Then Harry rose to his feet.
“I’d best be on my way,” he said. “I must ride back to an inn outside of London so that tomorrow I can make my grand entrance home.”
Philip nodded and rose to his feet. “I’ll show you out,” he said.
Harry shook his head. “No need. The window will suffice. And less chance of meeting anyone in the hallway. Just help me blow out the candles first. I shouldn’t want anyone watching to see me lit from behind.”
Moments later he was gone. Philip silently closed the window behind him, looked about the room to make certain nothing betrayed the fact that Harry had been here at all, then he seized a book, almost at random, and left the room.
Chapter 18
Emily was shaken. How, she wondered, does one get past such deceit as this? Why had Mr. Langford not told her that Lord Darton was his brother? Why had Sir Thomas not told her of the connection between her uncle’s friend and the barrister to whom he sent her?
When asked, Sir Thomas had shrugged, pasted a vague look upon his face which she did not believe, waved his hand carelessly, and said that it must have slipped his mind. Just as it must have slipped Mr. Langford’s mind, no doubt, that he had not told her, after he rescued her from Bedlam, about the connection between himself and Lord Darton. It was most distressing.
What also worried Emily was that she found it difficult to believe that Mr. Langford could truly support her if he was Lord Darton’s brother. His lordship had not granted her much time to speak, or he to reply, before calling for someone to take her away to Bedlam. But that short time had been sufficient for him to make clear his views. And they did not include even the smallest possibility of support for such reforms as Emily wished to champion.
Still, she did not hold the same views as her father, so it was at least possible that Mr. Langford and his brother disagreed. The other brother seemed to think so. If only she could know for certain. Having made a mistake in putting her trust in one man, Emily had no intention of doing so a second time.
Sleep did not come easily, after they returned home that evening. Dawn found her still tossing and tur
ning and reluctantly she rose to face the day.
At least Papa was pleased. The morning after Lady Jersey’s ball he positively rubbed his hands together with glee as he said, “Lord and Lady Darton distinguishing you with their notice! Splendid, absolutely splendid. And reminding, thereby, everyone of Mr. Langford’s excellent connections. I begin to think you have done very well for yourself, Emily. Very well, indeed. Now you mustn’t be missish about the matter. You need a husband. There is only one more point to resolve, the question of how generous a settlement Mr. Langford is willing to make. What are his finances? Excellent, I suppose. They must be for him to live at the address he does. Well, you must find out. Or I will, should the opportunity present itself. Agatha, it is a great pity you didn’t think to ask his brother.”
“What reason could I possibly have given for such effrontery?” Miss Jarrod gasped.
Ashbourne waved a hand. “I don’t know. You should have thought of something. Ah, well, I shall just have to do it myself.”
But Emily had finally found her voice. “You wouldn’t, Papa! You cannot mean to shame us this way.”
“Shame you? Nonsense! It is merely being practical and let me tell you that if you think other fathers don’t inquire into the state of finances of suitors for their daughters, well, you very much mistake the matter! A fine thing it would be if I didn’t care whether the fellow could support my daughter or not.”
Ashbourne managed to sound greatly aggrieved. Emily did not bother to answer. She knew only too well that her father was less concerned with Mr. Langford’s ability to support her than with whether he could wring sufficient sterling from the man to fund his stables.
Instead she turned and stared once more out the window. Not that there was any great view from an address such as theirs, but it was better than looking at her father chortle over what he called her good fortune or her aunt smile secretly over some happy thoughts of her own. Thoughts that Emily was willing to wager included Sir Thomas Levenger.
Emily wished her aunt happy, she truly did, but it hurt to think that Aunt Agatha had a better chance at happiness than she did. Mr. Langford had never looked at her with the sort of admiration and affection that shone so patently in Sir Thomas Levenger’s face when he looked at Aunt Agatha. No, the most she could expect from Mr. Langford was that he had somehow conceived he had a responsibility for her welfare.
Intent as she was on the view from the window, Emily still did not see Mr. Langford arrive. She all but jumped when his name was announced and he entered. His eyes flew to her face and she could only lower her gaze, as swiftly as possible, to the floor before she betrayed herself.
“Hallo, Langford,” her father said, striding forward to shake his hand.
He murmured something Emily could not quite hear. Then she felt, rather than saw him turn to Aunt Agatha. As always, his kindness to her aunt warmed Emily’s heart. How could she not like such a man? He even teased Aunt Agatha about Sir Thomas Levenger and managed to surprise a little laugh out of her. And for that, Emily would have forgiven him much. She could even, almost, forgive him for not telling her that Lord Darton was his brother.
And then Mr. Langford was looking at her. It was as if there was an apology, and something else she could not comprehend, in his eyes.
“I came to ask,” he said gruffly, “if you would care to go for a drive with me, Miss Ashbourne.”
Something in the way he asked, in the way he stood, conveyed to her how important it was to him, this most conventional of requests. She hesitated only a moment.
“Of course,” she said lightly. “If you will give me five minutes to get ready?”
He bowed. She retreated. And hastened to her room. She would not keep him waiting, not when her father meant to subject him to a quizzing. A quick repinning of her hair, a hasty smoothing of her blue cloth skirt and donning a darker blue pelisse, a moment to pinch her cheeks, and one or two other little matters and she was hurrying back down the stairs. Even so, she had taken longer than was wise.
“A tidy sum,” she heard her father was saying thoughtfully. “Not excessive, mind, but sufficient for you to support a household and be beforehand with the world even if you choose to indulge in a few luxuries. Tell me, sir, have you ever considered investing in horses?”
“I am ready!” Emily cried, diverting attention from her father.
They all looked at her strangely and she colored up but she would not apologize for rescuing Mr. Langford from her father’s efforts to importune him for money. He quirked an eye but merely offered her his arm and together they retreated to the street where a carriage waited and a groom was standing at the horses’ heads.
Emily tilted her head to look up at Mr. Langford. “Another brother’s carriage and groom?” she asked.
To her surprise, he reddened and said, an unexpected stiffness to his voice, “No, it is mine. I thought it about time I set up my own stable instead of always borrowing from James. Or even George.”
And more, Emily could see, he was not likely to say. It was odd, but only one more odd thing about this man and not, in her view, the most important. And then she forgot all about the new carriage for her thoughts were on the man himself. It wasn’t sensible, it wasn’t prudent, but Emily felt a surge of pleasure as Mr. Langford handed her to her seat.
And it was the oddest thing. With each street corner they passed, his mood seemed to lighten as well and he began to actually smile. But he did not speak until they reached the park. Then he pulled the carriage up short and handed the reins to the groom.
This was, she thought, becoming a distinct habit with the man. Still, she had a few things she wished to say to him and without being overheard so she was pleased, rather than otherwise, when he said, “Miss Ashbourne, would you care to take a turn on foot?”
It was not really a question. Once again his eyes asked her to agree and curiosity, if nothing else, would have compelled her to do so. Only when they were some distance down the path did he explain.
“I am sorry to drag you about this way,” he said by way of beginning, “but I needed to speak to you in private, where we would not be overheard, and could think of no other way to do so without it looking very particular.”
“A very good notion,” she said approvingly. “For I have wanted the chance to thank you for protecting me with this pretend betrothal. And to apologize for being angry with you last night. I have come to see that you owed me no explanation about your brother.”
This last was said with some difficulty and caused the corners of Mr. Langford’s mouth to turn up with amusement. “Someone has taught you excellent manners, Miss Ashbourne,” he said, “even if I suspect you would still like to rip up at me over the question of Lord Darton! I do apologize. But I never mentioned him because I knew beforehand he would not aid your cause and afterwards, well, what can one say when one has a relative who puts one to the blush in such a way?”
Now it was Emily’s turn to smile. And she did not want to do so. She bit her lower lip to keep from grinning outright. Still, there was a question she could not resist asking. “How did Lord Darton turn out so different from your father? And you? Only your brother James seems in the least like the man I met once at my uncle’s house, years ago.”
Suddenly the humor was gone from his eyes and they turned very dark. Emily shivered, though it was in truth a very warm day. Mr. Langford’s voice, when it came, only chilled her even more.
“My father was a romantic. An idealist. And a trouble maker. Oh, yes, he liked to cause trouble and then stand back and watch. He did good, I suppose. I’ll grant you that. But it cost us, his family, a great deal. He alienated almost every friend my parents had ever had. George was the eldest and he felt it even more than I. James was too young to understand much of what was happening or to be affected by it but George and Harry and I were not.”
Emily put a hand on his arm. Gently she said, “I am very sorry he caused you and your family so much grief.”
He
looked down at her and there was not a shred of warmth in his eyes now as he said, “But you are not sorry he was the man he was.”
It was not a question and Emily could not pretend it was. Nor could she lie. “No,” she said, her voice still soft, “I cannot regret the man your father was. Not when I recall the admiration with which my uncle always spoke of him.”
He drew in a deep breath and then nodded curtly. “That, more than anything else, Miss Ashbourne,” he said, “explains the deep gulf between us!”
He stared down at her hand and she slowly let go of his arm. With a composure she was far from feeling, Emily said, “You need not fear, Mr. Langford, that I shall mistake your kindness for anything more. Nor try to hold you to this betrothal you are pretending to for my sake. The moment I have secured some sort of position, on my own, I shall release you. You may be certain of that. Indeed, if you wish, I shall go home today and tell my father that it is at an end and let him take me to be a governess with the family he spoke of. I only beg that if I do so you will help Aunt Agatha travel to whichever family member she seeks shelter from.”
Abruptly he cursed and all the stiffness went out of his body. There was a haunted look in his eyes as he said, “No! Miss Ashbourne, I did not mean for you to take it so! Indeed, there is a favor I brought you here to ask.”
He paused and did not seem to know quite how to continue. He took a deep breath, then plunged in as though otherwise he might lose his nerve.
“Miss Ashbourne, could you, would you, allow yourself to pretend to be routed from London, on some pretext? Perhaps by Lady Darton? I have no doubt she will try to drive you away and I should like you to allow yourself to be persuaded to leave London. And I should like you to let me accompany you when you go.”
Emily blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this. He wanted to visit her home? Why? A part of her leaped in happiness, thinking that perhaps it meant he had a tendre for her after all.
The Reckless Barrister Page 14