by Regina Scott
Alex raised his quizzing glass and impaled the overly bold Templeman through it. The mushroom merely frowned slightly, heavy brown brows gathering over his short nose. Alex let the glass fall in dismissal and turned to Miss Templeman.
“I believe I have overstayed my welcome, Miss Templeman.”
“Got an appointment, have you?” Templeman all but sneered as his cousin sighed in obvious disappointment that Alex would leave. “One more willing, eh?”
Alex stared at him. Again the creature refused to quail. Had the fellow no idea how insulting his conversation was to the ladies? Both were tinged pink. By the way Miss Templeman lowered her gaze to the floral carpet, she was acutely embarrassed. By the way Miss Collins glared at Templeman, she was furious. The man was either a complete blockhead or an entire rudesby or both.
“Miss Collins,” Alex said, “I regret I must take my leave. Do give my regards to your uncle.”
Her shoulders sagged as if in defeat. “Of course, my lord. Let me see you out.”
Templeman bowed with such a self-satisfied smirk that Alex had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from giving the fellow a well-deserved set down. He pitied Miss Templeman to the core. He also thought he understood why the poor girl was unwed. Who’d want that in the family? He followed Miss Collins from the room.
They had not reached the stairs before she stopped him. “Please do not let Lord Templeman deter you, my lord. I know Constance would be delighted to have you call again.”
“Your welcome is too kind,” Alex replied firmly, “but, as I said, I am calling on your uncle. Will he be available tomorrow, do you know?”
“Perhaps,” she said slowly, and Alex was certain she was hedging. “If you could give me a time for your visit, I might contrive to make him available.”
Now what did that mean? His imagination easily conjured up Collins hiding in some dark underworld lair, surrounded by knife-toting, rum-swilling henchmen, while his niece pleaded for a moment of his time. The vision popped as quickly as it had formed. Very likely the fellow did nothing more heinous with his time than disappear to his club to reminisce with his cronies. Alex was chasing a phantom.
“Do not trouble yourself,” he told her. “I will try another avenue to answer my questions. I would not want anyone to read more into these visits than I intended. Lord Templeman appears to think an offer is imminent.”
She grimaced. “Lord Templeman always thinks an offer is imminent. He is simply insistent on doing his duty toward his family.”
“If that is the case,” Alex replied thoughtfully, “why doesn’t Miss Templeman live with him?”
“He is a bachelor. It would be unseemly.”
The excuse was plausible, but the way she said it made him wonder whether it was the only reason. Was it Sir Richard or Lord Templeman who had something to hide?
She laid a hand on his arm, the touch gentle. Glancing down, he met her gaze. The grey of her eyes was as cool and soft as mist rising on a lake.
“Please, my lord?” she murmured. “Please call again soon. I am certain my uncle will be up to receiving you in a day or two.”
Why not, something inside him urged. He might yet learn a thing or two. There were worse ways to spend his time. Alex nodded. “Very well, Miss Collins. I shall call again in a few days.”
He could not resist bringing her dainty hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against the back. He could feel the tremor up her arm.
What surprised him was the answering quiver inside him.
Chapter Five
Katherine closed the door with a heartfelt sigh. Things were not going as she’d planned. Lord Borin had obviously noticed their intentions and made inquiries. How else could he come by her name? How nice that he’d taken the trouble to learn it. He was brighter than she’d expected based on the information they had gathered. Most of the gentlemen she had met who preferred to spend their time gaming and racing were not intellectual giants. Of course, she probably should have expected more intelligence after his nurse had boasted of the marks he’d received at Eton.
She also hadn’t counted on interference from Lord Templeman quite so quickly. How had he known Lord Borin had called previously? Was the old codger spying on them? She hadn’t thought him that cunning. Indeed, every gambit her stepsister’s cousin tried was pathetically obvious.
Like his attempt to scare away Lord Borin.
Katherine sighed again as she climbed the stairs for the withdrawing room. As she had expected, she found Constance nearly in tears. She hurried to take a seat beside her stepsister.
“I tell you this for your wellbeing,” Templeman was saying in his usual pompous manner, one plump hand smoothing back his mane of greying hair. “You must have a care for your reputation. Gentlemen have an aversion to marrying a woman who is thought unchaste.”
As Constance bravely sucked on her lower lip, Katherine nearly choked. “No one would dare imply that Constance is less than a lady,” she informed Lord Templeman. “Emma, Bixby, or I attend her every minute a gentleman visits. She is always chaperoned when she goes out.”
Lord Templeman leaned back with an audible creak of his corset. “One can never be too careful. Just associating with someone like Borin might be enough to darken her name.”
Constance’s limpid eyes widened.
Katherine frowned. “What do you mean? We have heard no bad report of Lord Borin.”
“Well, certainly, you wouldn’t,” Templeman replied with a smug smile. “These are tales passed among gentlemen, if you take my meaning.”
“I thought a real gentleman never boasted of his conquests,” Katherine countered, remembering something she had heard Sir Richard tell Eric when he had asked about a certain lady.
“And a lady never admits to understanding the reference,” Templeman sneered. “But perhaps I berate the wrong person in Constance. Where is your guardian, Sir Richard? Why isn’t he here protecting her?”
“Sir Richard is unwell,” Katherine replied, hoping he would not ask the nature of the illness. Bixby had reported that two brandy bottles had been found in her uncle’s study last night before he was carried off to bed. She supposed she should be thankful he didn’t overdose himself with laudanum or morphine instead.
“Ah, unwell. Again.” Templeman shook his head. “What a topsy-turvy household you have, to be sure. I begin to think I should remove my cousin, for her own good.”
Constance gasped, and Katherine quickly covered her stepsister’s hands with one of her own. “Now, Lord Templeman,” she scolded, “what would the gossips say, a handsome bachelor such as yourself sharing his lodging with a young lady?”
She nearly gagged on the sentiment, but it worked its charm as she had known it would. Templeman sat straighter, forcing another creak from the vicinity of his body, and preened. “Yes, well, there is that, I suppose. Still in all, we must do our best for Miss Constance.”
“And in that vein,” Katherine said, seizing her advantage, “I still do not understand why you object to Lord Borin. He is more handsome and wealthy than most of Constance’s suitors.”
“He seems quite charming,” Constance put in wistfully.
Katherine was encouraged by the tone. It was obvious, however, that it only discouraged Lord Templeman.
“Well, if I must spell it out for you,” he blustered, “he is a cad. If you want proof, you have only to look at the actresses he’s pursued, the latest of which is Lydia Montgomery of Drury Lane.”
Constance paled at the revelation. Katherine merely pursed her lips in thought. She would have liked to dismiss the tale as gossip, but the reference was too specific. Of course, Lord Templeman could not know that she had ways of confirming his information.
“I had heard,” she said carefully, “that some men who dally are easily reformed by marriage.”
“Lady Janice Willstencraft says that reformed rakes make the best husbands,” Constance agreed.
Katherine wasn’t certain she’d trust the scandalous La
dy Janice on the definition of a good husband. She had already refused six completely eligible suitors of her own. Katherine could only hope her stepsister hadn’t taken any other advice from the volatile young lady.
“What balderdash,” Lord Templeman replied with an ill-bred snort. “Once a dallier, always a dallier, I say. Do you wish your stepsister wed to a reprobate, Miss Collins?”
“A reprobate?” Constance cried.
“Lord Borin,” Katherine said hotly, “is no reprobate. He earned credible marks at Eton, his estate is well managed, and his servants find him even-handed and even-tempered. He has never been caught cheating at cards. When he owes a debt, he pays it promptly. He even donates to worthy charities.”
“I see he has been busy bragging,” Lord Templeman said with a disdainful curl of his flabby lip. “Do you believe everything you are told, Miss Collins?”
“Only when it comes from a reputable source, Lord Templeman.”
His eyes narrowed as his face reddened. He heaved his considerable bulk out of the chair. The intimidating movement was spoiled by yet another creak. As Katherine forced herself to smile instead of laugh at him, he wagged a finger in her face. “You have been warned, miss. Borin is a loose fish, and I will not countenance him for Constance.”
Katherine rose as well. She stood in front of him, head raised to meet his angry gaze. “You did not countenance any of her suitors so far. However, I have no doubt Sir Richard will see Lord Borin’s interest in a different light. You will remember, sir, that it is his decision whom my stepsister marries.”
“No,” Constance said. The quiet determination in her voice drew Katherine’s gaze to her, and she noticed Lord Templeman had been similarly affected.
For once, Constance did not flinch when she found herself the center of attention. “It is my decision whom I marry,” she told them. “I did not love either of the gentlemen who offered, and so I asked Sir Richard to refuse them. It remains to be seen whether I shall love Lord Borin.”
Templeman glanced at Katherine in triumph, then reached over to pat Constance’s shoulder. “You are a good girl, Cousin. I know I can count on you to do what is right, unlike some others.”
“Oh, my,” Katherine sang out in pure spite, “look at the time! We have detained you, my lord. Bixby, show Lord Templeman to the door immediately.”
Templeman did not fight her, merely chuckling as he bowed and left the room.
Katherine sank onto the settee beside her stepsister. “Whatever possessed you to agree with him, Constance?”
She smiled sadly. “Whatever possessed you to disagree? You know you cannot win against him. My cousin is a potent force.”
“At least in his own mind,” Katherine grumbled. “You cannot give in to him, Constance. Can you not see he is after your fortune? If he can keep you from marrying for another six weeks, you will lose everything.”
“I know,” Constance replied, lowering her gaze. “But I cannot bring myself to marry without love. It is as if I am buying a husband. I could not respect a man who would marry me under such circumstances.”
Katherine reached out to take her hands. “But dearest, you are constantly surrounded by suitors when we go out, and any number of them would be willing to brave your cousin’s defenses if you would encourage them. Has none of them touched your heart?”
“None,” she confided, withdrawing from the touch. “I find them rather tiresome.”
“What of Kevin Whattling, who danced with you at Lady Lorton’s party?” Katherine challenged. “You cannot say he isn’t handsome.”
“He is quite handsome,” Constance agreed. “But his hands sweat. I’m certain I could feel them through his gloves and mine.”
“The Marquis DeGuis, then. Every lady in London is said to be swooning.”
“He is much too cool for my liking. Just having him look down his nose when he greeted me was enough to make me wish myself elsewhere.”
“And Everett Wardman? I thought his conversation most animated after services last Sunday.”
“He drinks to excess. I have experience enough of that to know how sadly it can end.”
“Sir Richard cannot help himself,” Katherine protested loyally. When Constance merely eyed her, blue eyes solemn, she sighed. “Oh, very well. I cannot argue that having a drunk for a husband would be a miserable existence. But there are others more sober, with a cheery smile and dry palms. I will not allow you to dismiss them so easily.”
Constance smiled. “I think you favor Lord Borin.”
Katherine swallowed. “Nonsense. I cannot think what you mean.”
“You were quite vocal in your defense of him before my cousin. I thank you for that. I agree he is an amiable man and handsome enough for any girl. However, I noticed the way your eyes lit when he entered the room. I have never seen you smile so. Are you certain you would not like him to pursue you instead?”
Katherine hopped to her feet. “Me? I’m not the one ready to give away her fortune to a dastard.”
“If it does not trouble me,” Constance said, gazing up at her with a slight frown on her golden brows, “why should it trouble you?”
Why indeed? She felt selfish just considering the answer. Sir Richard had a small pension, and her mother and father had left them a little. Even combined, the money was not enough to keep renting this house they had taken when her stepfather died. Lord Templeman had made no secret that he would prefer to see Eric in the military and Katherine in the workhouse. She did not think it would come to that, but they would not be able to keep living this way if Constance lost her fortune.
She tried not to spend her stepsister’s money on fripperies. She remade her mother’s dresses and helped Sir Richard tutor Eric to save funds. They seldom entertained; Constance’s popularity was sufficient to ensure they never lacked for invitations elsewhere. They kept no servants other than the ever-loyal Bixby and Emma. All that would change if Constance became as poor as they were. But Constance must never know. Katherine refused to put that burden on her stepsister.
Some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face nonetheless, for Constance cocked her head. “What is it, Katherine? Does the loss of my fortune affect you?”
“It does not signify,” she replied, returning to her seat. “The most important thing is and shall be your happiness. If none of these gentlemen fits the bill, we will simply have to find another. For the moment, let us concentrate on Lord Borin.”
Constance agreed, countenance once more sunny. Katherine sent her upstairs to prepare for her afternoon of calling on her fashionable friends. As she often did, Constance begged her to join them.
“You keep yourself too much in the shade,” her stepsister chided. “You cannot spend all your time managing this house. Leave something for Emma, and come with me.”
Katherine demurred. She would not deny Emma’s considerable abilities, but she could not leave their cook and housekeeper to bear the work alone. Besides, Katherine had another idea entirely of how she wanted to spend her time today. Once her stepsister was out of the house with Emma as chaperone, she grabbed Bixby from his duties.
“The War Office,” she ordered. “I’ll get Eric.”
They met a few moments later across from the schoolroom, in a bedchamber that had once housed the governess of the former tenants. Before the Season had started, Katherine had appropriated it for her own use. Now the white plaster walls were covered with pieces of paper nailed in place. On them were noted every bit of information they had been able to learn about Lord Borin. They had neatly categorized the information as likes, dislikes, daily routine, and to be verified. Thanks to Bixby and Eric, the last category had been emptied, until now.
While Eric curled up on the braided rug before the small hearth and Bixby seated himself on a high-backed chair they had purloined from the kitchen, Katherine proceeded to write down the newest bit of information, tacking it determinedly in place.
“Lord Templeman says Borin is pursuing an actres
s,” she declared.
Bixby grimaced. “I knew you should have let me follow him more often at night.”
“Sir Richard would have noticed your absence from the dinner table. And I was too often out with Constance.” She shook her head. “We will simply have to verify it.”
“Why is he chasing an actress?” Eric piped up. “Does he like to run?”
Katherine felt herself blushing, but Bixby supplied the answer. “Your sister means he’s acting as if he’s courting the lady, when he isn’t interested in marriage.”
“Why is he doing that?” Eric asked with a frown, absently scratching his arm through his brown wool jacket.
“Suffice it to say that whatever he is doing is anathema to our purposes,” Katherine answered. “Because he’s already seeing another woman, he may not be interested in courting Constance.”
Eric glanced between her and Bix. “So what do we do?”
“I say we continue as we have,” Bixby said. “Any man who realizes Miss Constance’s sweetness would be happy to throw off another lady for her.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree,” Katherine replied while Eric looked thoughtful. “But we all know how Constance vacillates. I do not believe she has decided whether she is truly interested in Lord Borin.”
“Isn’t that just like a girl,” Eric muttered.
Katherine glared at him. “Mind your mouth, young sir. I refuse to believe an eight-year-old knows how girls do or do not behave, particularly after having me for a sister.”
“Now, Miss Katherine,” Bixby chided. “You’re not so different a young miss. You like pretty clothes well enough.”
Katherine couldn’t help gazing down at her navy bombazine. “Well, I did when I was younger. But that is neither here nor there. I still say Lord Borin is our best candidate. We looked over the prospects carefully before the Season began and agreed.” She waved a hand at the pieces of paper surrounding them. “Look at this information, and tell me he isn’t perfect.”
Bixby glanced about. “It certainly seemed that way, Miss Katherine. He was stable, well heeled, and well liked. I don’t see how we failed.”