by Regina Scott
“Have I interrupted?” she asked blithely. “Pray continue. Do not mind me. I just want to see to these cakes.”
They eyed each other, and the cakes she passed to them, but neither took her up on her offer to continue the conversation. She would have to try herself.
“I hope my uncle’s defense of the good general did not overly concern you, Lord Borin. The Chronicle is often successful in its duty to arise public ire, is it not?”
He nodded, sitting back in the chair as if nothing were troubling him. “Most assuredly. I would be surprised if your uncle did not react strongly to such opposition to our valiant troops.”
Sir Richard nodded as well. Katherine smiled. So much for that concern. On to the next. “And what brings you to see us today, my lord?”
The viscount took such a long sip of his lemonade before answering that she thought she might scream. “I had some news of a mutual acquaintance to share with your uncle,” he said at last.
“And I appreciate it,” Sir Richard replied. “I simply am not certain how to respond.”
She glanced between the two of them, thoroughly mystified. “May I be of assistance?”
“No!”
She recoiled from the vehement chorus. Neither looked ready to apologize, or explain. Rising, she shook out her skirts. “I shall leave you to it, then. Good day, Lord Borin.”
He rose and bowed, but she swept out without an acknowledgement.
In the corridor, she slipped against the plastered wall. Eavesdropping was unconscionably rude, but she had to know what her uncle and Lord Borin were about. If the viscount had discovered her plans for him, all was lost.
“So you have no idea why your man might want to spy on me?” he was saying.
Katherine sighed. He had recognized Bix. Another perfectly good operative sunk. Fortunately, she seemed to have outgrown the need or she’d have to go herself next time.
“I am sorry, Borin,” her uncle replied, “but I am at a loss. I have watched the house for any skullduggery, but everyone seems immersed in planning for this party. Is it possible you are mistaken?”
Katherine held her breath and heard the viscount puff out his. “In truth,” he said, “I do not know. I suppose it is possible I counted the wrong house when I first followed the boy. What do you know of your neighbors?”
Katherine let out her breath. Her neighbors were harmless, but, with any luck, investigating them would keep him too busy to bother with her. She listened a few more minutes while they dissected the lives of those living on the terrace, then tripped happily away, secure in the knowledge that her scheme had not yet been discovered. She would turn her energies to making sure the party brought Constance and Lord Borin together.
Lord Templeman was not feeling nearly so secure. Borin was becoming decidedly tiresome. It had cost Templeman a pretty penny to bribe that Bow Street Runner to return a bland report of him. Just the fact that Borin would dare to have him investigated was cause enough for alarm. Such an inquiry might lead to his connection to certain dealings with foreign enterprises. Those contacts could prove lucrative, once he had used his cousin’s fortune to open a few doors to more telling information.
But there Borin interfered yet again. The viscount had gone calling on the Collins, and this after severing ties to his mistress, in the most preemptive fashion, if rumors were true. Lord Templeman’s affairs and his fortune were in jeopardy. It was time to act, and he knew just the lie that would set things in motion. With any luck, within a week or two Borin would be too busy defending himself to worry about him or Constance.
Sir Richard also knew it was time to act. He waited only until the door closed behind his guest before limping to the library. He found Eric sprawled on the rug before the fire, eating some of the same cake Katherine had offered them and reading from his Latin text.
“Lord Borin nearly caught you that time, didn’t he?” he asked.
The boy grinned, freckles dancing across his short nose in the firelight. “He sure did. I almost …”. His eyes widened. “Oops.”
“Oops indeed, my lad,” his uncle declared, easing himself into a leather armchair beside him. “Care to tell me what’s happening?”
Eric clamped his lips tight and shook his head.
Sir Richard tapped his knee. “I see. Valor in the face of the enemy. Refusing to give up state secrets. Most impressive. What if I were to try bribery?”
Eric grinned. “Take me to Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre to see the horses?”
“Oh, a tall order. But I might be persuaded.”
His grin faded. “Sorry, Uncle. Much as I want to see the horses, I gave my word. A gentleman never goes back on his word.”
“Too true,” Sir Richard commiserated. “What if I were to guess? Confirming a guess isn’t going back on your word, is it?”
Eric screwed up his face in thought. “I do not think Katherine would agree.”
“Perhaps not,” Sir Richard allowed. “Very well, I give up. Your honor is saved. Run along now and send your sister to me, will you?”
“All right,” Eric agreed, “but be warned, Uncle, she’s a lot tougher than I am.”
Sir Richard had no doubt that would be the case. Just seeing her squared shoulders as she entered the room told him he dealt with a seasoned operative. He decided to go straight to the heart of the matter.
“You set Bixby and Eric to spy on Lord Borin. Why?”
Her pupils dilated, but she merely raised her head. “You drink yourself into a stupor most nights and put us through hell when you awake. Do I ask your motive?”
He flinched. “Point taken, my girl. Your brother is right. You are a great deal tougher than he is.”
She eyed him. “Just what did Eric tell you?”
“Not nearly enough. You should be proud of him.”
“I am. For any number of reasons. Now, may I go?”
Sir Richard raised a brow. “Do you think I give up so easily? I intend to get to the bottom of this, my girl.” He cocked his head to regard her. She stared stonily back. “Has Lord Borin dallied with you, Katherine?” he pressed. “Are you after revenge?”
“Good heavens no!” Her denial was vehement, but he sensed the truth with relief. “Lord Borin is a gentleman, Uncle. He would never knowingly compromise a lady, and, if he did so inadvertently, I have no doubt he would take responsibility.”
“Then why harass the poor fellow?”
She sighed. “We have stopped. Neither Bix nor Eric shall follow him again. Is that sufficient for you?”
“Not in the slightest. I wish to know what drove you to such drastic measures.”
She threw up her hands. “Is it not evident? Constance refuses to marry. She has less than five weeks before she loses her fortune. I have paraded every eligible gentleman in London before her, and she does not so much as notice. I begin to think she wishes for poverty!”
“More likely she is unaware of the consequences,” Sir Richard replied thoughtfully. “I shall speak to her. In truth, I had forgotten the time was drawing near. Will she be truly twenty-one this June?”
Katherine nodded. “And no closer to the altar than at her debut, I fear.”
“Then you would be twenty-two,” he mused. “And no closer to the altar yourself.”
She reddened, and he knew he had scored a hit. The knowledge brought him no joy.
“My willingness to wed is not the issue,” she told him tartly. “Do you wish to see my stepfather’s money go to his hideous nephew?”
“Frankly, I do not care. But you obviously do. Perhaps I should look more closely at our finances again. Are we approaching beggary?”
She dropped her gaze. “We will not starve. But we will have to move to another part of London or the country, and we will have to release Emma and Bixby.”
“As bad as that?” Sir Richard frowned. Why hadn’t he realized it? It was one thing to overlook his niece’s age – children grew up all too quickly. It was another to overlook their financial
well being. He tried to remember the last time he had paid a bill and couldn’t recall. But if they were in arrears, surely he’d have been dunned. He didn’t remember any threatening notes or demanding visitors. He suddenly realized that he didn’t even remember what day it was. The realization stunned him.
Katherine’s gaze on his face recalled him to the conversation. He cleared his throat. “I begin to see why you are concerned, Katherine. But you cannot force Constance into marriage to save us.”
“Nor would I!” she immediately protested. “I have tried to find a man so wonderful she cannot refuse him.”
“Lord Borin,” he guessed.
She nodded. “He is affable, generous, and kind. He has an excellent fortune in his own right, so she cannot say he is after hers. And you cannot deny he is kind on the eyes.”
“Certainly not.” He also could not deny that Katherine seemed more than a little attracted herself. “But you bring me back to my original question. Why spy on the fellow?”
“I had to be certain he was the right choice for Constance,” she all but pleaded. “I also had to determine whether there were any obstacles to their courtship or whether we had anything of worth to tempt him to marriage.”
He frowned. “What you describe begins to sound like entrapment. What exactly did you plan for the poor fellow?”
“Nothing heinous, I promise you! I thought if Constance were to wear a scent he preferred or dress in shades of his favorite color, he might be attracted enough to come closer. Am I not entitled to gather data before undertaking such an activity as helping Constance go courting?”
“I find it difficult to believe all young ladies have such information on their perspective bridegrooms, unless of course, they simply ask.”
She ignored the pointed suggestion. “Few young ladies have to contend with the factors we face,” she countered. “Can you say you are sorry we managed to get him to call?”
“I find him quite companionable,” Sir Richard assured her. “But I am not going to marry him. And you cannot blame the fellow for wondering what goes on. Particularly with rumors of foreign spies among the Haut Ton.”
Her eyes widened. “Foreign spies? What is this?”
“A rumor only, as far as I know, but a persistent one. Apparently several members of Parliament have been approached, those who have ties to the War Office. Lord Hastings is surely investigating. But you can see why being followed might make Lord Borin jittery.”
“Certainly, but as I said, we have stopped.”
“That is not all you will stop.” He affixed her with a firm stare, watching her lower her gaze to the carpet. It had been a long time since he had had to play the patriarch. Indeed, he wasn’t certain he had ever played the role. Still, he could not allow her to worry herself to the point at which she took such risks.
“From now on,” he told her, “I will take responsibility for this family. That is my right and duty as a gentleman.”
“Yes, Sir Richard,” she murmured.
“I expect you to focus on what young ladies are supposed to focus upon – determining how they will live the rest of their lives and with whom they will live it. You can trust me to keep us afloat.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she said again.
His heart went out to her, but he had to get her to see the folly of her ways. “You are a bright girl, Katherine. I expect you to support me in this.”
She raised her gaze at last, staring at him as firmly as he did her. “I will support you, Uncle. It will be a pleasure to have the burden relieved. But you had better prove yourself up to it. Someone has to see to the well being of this family. If you cannot or will not, I will.”
Chapter Ten
Katherine did not enjoy being scolded like a child. But she could not complain that her uncle had remembered his duty at last. They went through the books the next morning and confirmed that her estimates were correct. He took some of the money from her mother to invest in the Exchange in the hope that they might improve their fortunes. She could tell, however, that he was not optimistic about their chances in so short a time.
She thought she might get him to help elsewhere, but he threw up his hands at the suggestion of assisting with the preparations for the party.
“I may have learned how to quarter and provision troops,” he said, “but I would not presume to intrude on your territory, Colonel.”
In truth, she didn’t mind his retreat. After discussions with Constance, they had determined that the event should be a ball with a buffet supper to be served at midnight. Thirty people had accepted their invitations, with a few more men than women, which she hoped would mean that most of the ladies would get to dance. The preparations were nearly done. She had devised a menu, helped the caterer shop for foodstuffs, selected additional plate and silver, and ordered wine and flowers. She had seen Constance fitted for a new gown and brushed off a burgundy silk gown of her mother’s for herself. She had interviewed and hired musicians and selected a number of dances they were to play. By the day of the ball, all she had to do was confirm the details with the caterer.
Mr. Lloyd was a fussy man, shaped like a child’s ball and just as brightly colored in his lemon coat and eggplant trousers. He questioned her on any number of matters but seemed satisfied that she knew her mind. When she finished late in the morning, she went upstairs intending to spend a few hours tutoring Eric before dressing for the ball. Instead, she found Bixby waiting for her on the first floor landing. Putting his finger to his lips, he nodded toward the study.
Her heart sank. Was her uncle drunk again? Sir Richard had been so good. He had taken no more than a glass or two of wine in the evening. But if he over imbibed today, she would have a devil of a time hiding it from their guests. Almost afraid of what she would find, she tiptoed to the door and peered in.
But Sir Richard was not in the room. Instead, she watched in amazement as a footman with a powdered wig and fat cheeks rifled through the papers on her uncle’s desk. The impudence! Before Bixby could stop her, she straightened her back and marched into the room.
“Here, now, fellow, what do you think you are doing?”
His head jerked up. A gaze as blue as the sky met her own before being hastily dropped.
“Sorry, mum,” he muttered in a rough-edged voice. “Mr. Lloyd thought he might of left the menu up ’ere.”
She kept her face stern though her heart raced. “Well, he didn’t. Return to your duties.” She watched as he shambled humbly out. When she was certain he had gone down the stairs, she hurried out to meet her butler.
“Bix, tell me I am mad. Was that Viscount Borin?”
The butler nodded with a grin. “God bless you, Miss Katherine, but I’m sure of it. He’s too blatant to miss.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have noticed him if you had not pointed him out. I trusted Mr. Lloyd to chose the appropriate staff.”
He nodded. “No doubt Lord Borin was counting on that. What do you think he’s about?“
“Trying to figure out why you and Eric have been following him, I would guess.” She paused, thinking, but could see no other reason. Besides, outside of her plan, they had nothing to hide.
“What should we do, then?” Bixby pressed. “Call him out?”
She giggled. “Somehow I hate to spoil his fun. I imagine he’s quite enjoying his moments of espionage. Yet I cannot have him discover our War Office.”
“I quite agree,” Bixby replied with a shudder. “Maybe I can simply keep him busy until he leaves.”
Katherine grinned. “Why, Bix, what a delightful idea. If Lord Borin wants to play footman, we should certainly give him a taste for the role.”
Alex found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Mr. Lloyd had been told enough about the deception to know to exempt this particular footman from much work. He did not, of course, know that the footman was a nobleman in disguise. In fact, Alex had the impression the fellow thought the footman was some nobleman’s by-blow who needed gainful employment.
Whatever the case, Alex merely had to stand about and look officious.
On various pretenses, he had already searched the library and the study. Sir Richard had gone out to his club, and the brother was apparently in the schoolroom. Wherever Alex looked, he found nothing incriminating, but he still had the upper floors to go. He simply had to avoid any more interruptions as he had just had from Miss Collins.
His heart had nearly stopped when she had stormed into the room, head high. It had nearly leaped from his chest when he thought for a moment she had recognized him. But she had sent him about his tasks, and for that he had to be thankful. Miss Collins was a delicious distraction, but he had other plans.
He had, however, developed a greater respect for Miss Collins’ abilities. He was amazed at the number of details the party entailed, and how many of them had been completed in a relatively short time. According to Mr. Lloyd and the others, the feat was entirely the work of one Miss Katherine Collins. Now, with the guests due to arrive in a few hours, there were no confused directions, no sense of panic or even anxiety. People knew their duties and did them promptly. The food that was cooking looked delicious, the decorations delightful. He could almost regret he was going to miss the event.
He changed his opinion that afternoon. Bixby cornered him as Alex helped Mr. Lloyd lay out the silver.
“You there, fellow. You seem to have some muscle. Come with me.”
Mr. Lloyd stepped helpfully forward. “If I may, Mr. Bixby, I need James here. Perhaps one of the others… “
Bixby frowned, looking down his long nose and drawing himself up to his full height. “Do you have a particular preference for this fellow, sir?”
Around him, the other footmen exchanged glances. Alex met the gaze of his so-called employer. He could not risk discovery. Mr. Lloyd must have read the message, for he drew himself up as well. “Certainly not! I simply do not like having my people commandeered.”
“You will like less the report I give Miss Collins if you are uncooperative,” Bixby informed him, making the man blanch. “Now, come along, James, is it? I haven’t got all day.”