‘I may currently be serving as a captain in His Majesty’s navy, but I am also the eighth Earl of Inverseigg. If Miss Hutton were to marry me she would become my Countess.’
The Colonel sucked in a good deal of air through his teeth. Looked him up and down.
‘Estates mortgaged, are they?’
‘Yes.’ There was no point in lying about this. ‘But not because they are not profitable.’
‘Your father was a gambler, was he? Or merely incompetent?’
Harry did not rise to the bait. ‘A mixture of both,’ he confessed frankly.
‘Then you ought to be hanging out for an heiress.’
Yes. If he’d been genuinely on the hunt for a wife.
‘Yes. If I’d been thinking in terms of leaving the navy and returning to my estates,’ he hedged.
The Colonel’s brows drew down. ‘If you mean to marry Lizzie and then go back to sea I don’t see how that will be of any benefit to her at all.’
‘Obviously, I would not do that.’
‘What the devil are you driving at then?’
‘Well, sir, I hadn’t been thinking of ever marrying, before I met your granddaughter.’ Actually, not before Rawcliffe and Becconsall had persuaded him to pose as her suitor. ‘But since I have, I have been thinking of ways to make marriage possible.’ Because he’d known he couldn’t approach the Colonel without convincing credentials. So he’d looked at all the ways he might be able to convince the old man that he could provide for a wife. And had pretty soon realised that if he was the kind of man to accept the reward money that Rawcliffe, Becconsall and Archie’s family had put up as a reward, he could lift the mortgages.
‘I expect to come into a substantial sum of money, in the near future,’ he therefore said. ‘It will enable me to get back on an even keel. As I’ve already mentioned, the estates are profitable and should provide enough income to keep both myself and a wife in some comfort.’ Theoretically.
The Colonel tapped his cane repeatedly on the floor as he turned this over. Looked at him as though he were a person, rather than something he wanted to scrape off the bottom of his shoe. That was the thing with titles. Men assessed you on a different scale entirely. Simply because of an accident of birth. Which was why he so rarely told anyone about it. And if he hadn’t vowed to do whatever it took to succeed on this mission, he wouldn’t have done so now.
Only, having a title did make guardians look upon prospective suitors with less hostility.
‘And what were you doing in Bath, then? Drinking the waters? Got some tropical disease, have you?’
‘I have been ill, it is true. But mostly it was the effect of being held prisoner by the French for the past year. I swam every day, while in Bath, in the hope of regaining my vigour, as well as drinking the waters.’
‘Badly treated, were you? Don’t surprise me. Vicious sorts, those Frenchies.’
‘No, not exactly. It was...but that is beside the point. I am not yet at full strength, as you can probably tell from the cut of my clothes.’ He tugged at the front of his jacket, which he was still not filling out fully. He supposed he should have bought a new suit of clothes to go courting. Only, before he’d met Lizzie it had felt more important to stress his illness, rather than his suitability as a husband. ‘But I can assure you that I am recovering and that Miss Hutton is very unlikely to have to spend the rest of her life nursing me. I fully intend to take care of her.’
‘I must admit,’ growled the Colonel after a short, ruminative pause, ‘I have been troubled about her future. This property is entailed, you see, and I doubt very much whether my successor will have the patience with her that I’ve—’ He bit off whatever he’d been about to say. ‘She won’t be exactly penniless, when I’m gone. I have made some provision for her in my will. But it won’t be the same as having her own husband and family. Not by a long chalk.’
‘Then...you will give me your blessing? I may pay my addresses to L—I mean, Miss Hutton?’
‘I can’t see her getting a better offer,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And it’s better for her to marry than dwindling into an old maid, or being a poor relation in someone else’s home. But I’m not going to hand her straight over to you. Until the moment this money you spoke of is actually safe in your bank and you give me proof of its existence, I will not countenance an official betrothal.’
Which couldn’t have suited Harry better. He would only qualify for that money once he’d unmasked Archie’s killer. At which time, everyone would know what he’d really been doing in Dorset. And Miss Hutton would be so angry with him she wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.
‘The final decision must rest with her, though,’ the Colonel said sternly. ‘So you’d better get to it.’
‘Get to it?’
‘Yes, the courting. She’s at Lady Buntingford’s today, ye see? Big house at the far end of the village. If you set off now, you will be in plenty of time to escort her home. You’ll have to wait outside the gates, though. They don’t let anyone in to see the old girl these days. Damn nonsense, of course, but there it is.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ He grabbed one of the Colonel’s hands and shook it with such enthusiasm that the old man winced. ‘Beg pardon, sir, but you’ve just made me a very happy man.’
‘Yes,’ said the Colonel, massaging his fingers, ‘I can see that I have. Never thought I’d see the day,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘Young chap like you head over heels for my Lizzie.’
Head over heels? He was no such thing. He was just glad that he was laying down his cover so convincingly.
That was all.
Chapter Ten
‘And then we held hands, all the way through the concert until the interval,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘Of course, me being as I am, I ruined it all before the evening was out. I started up like a pheasant breaking cover and knocked over my chair. And then as I bent to pick it up, he did the same, which meant that we bumped our heads together.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Lady Buntingford.
‘Quite,’ said Lizzie rather drily. ‘You don’t need to say it. I deserved to have someone knock some sense into me.’
‘Dear, dear, dear...’
‘Oh, no, my lady. You must not sympathise with me. I have, after all, had a little romance of my own. Nothing like the kind I read to you about from your books, of course.’ She smoothed the pages of the book that lay open in her lap. ‘He did not ask me to elope with him, or attempt to snatch a kiss in a secluded arbour and tell me that his heart beat only for me. I doubt that any man, outside the pages of a novel, ever tells a woman that his heart beats only for her. But we did hold hands. And of course, it did end with Grandfather going all tyrannical when he heard about it, which is rather like the kind of behaviour of guardians in books, isn’t it? Though who on earth saw us and told Grandfather all about it, I cannot think because Captain Bretherton took great care that we were sitting at the back of the room where nobody could possibly have seen exactly what we were doing.’
‘Dear, dear...’
‘I know. “There is nothing hid that shall not be shouted from the rooftops”,’ she paraphrased. ‘Well, anyway, Grandfather shouted a lot and ended up by ordering me to pack our bags and he brought us home. Furious, I may add, that I had done something to cut short his pleasure.’
‘Oh, dear...’
‘Though I wasn’t the least bit repentant,’ said Lizzie, leaning forward to apply her handkerchief to the trail of moisture spreading across Lady Buntingford’s chin. ‘It felt like a triumph, rather than disgrace. I am always glad to come home to Lesser Peeving. I detest Bath, as you know. All I do is hang round the Pump Room while Grandfather gossips with his cronies, or listen to others gossip while he plays at cards. But here, this little part of Dorset, has become my home. I know the hills and paths, the caves and coves, and can wander freely, safely, all on my own, when
ever Grandfather does not have need of me. And of course I do enjoy our afternoons together,’ she put in hastily, lest she hurt Lady Buntingford’s feelings. ‘And, yes, it was a bit of a disappointment to be wrenched away from Captain Bretherton before he had the chance to do anything really shocking. But at least now I have had my very own admirer. Nothing like the kinds of beaux you used to have when you were younger, I shouldn’t think. But he was tall. And he was handsome. And he did have the darkest hair and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. My only regret is that he didn’t kiss me. I suspect it would have been...’ She ended on a sigh.
‘Oh, dear...’
‘Yes, I know, isn’t it wicked of me? And also, it is rather galling to have to admit it, but I believe Grandfather was right to bring me home when he did. Because if Captain Bretherton could get me holding hands with him during a concert, who knows how it might have ended? He might have ruined me with the greatest of ease. He wouldn’t have had to try very hard. And I’m not at all sure I would have regretted it, either. Because I might have ended up with a baby, if not a wedding ring.’
‘Dear, dear, dear...’
‘I know. Shocking of me, isn’t it? Both to wish for it and to know that babies often do come to girls who get ruined. I don’t suppose Grandfather would have allowed me to keep a baby, if I had one, though.’ She sighed, straying a bit further into the realms of what-might-have-been. ‘And not only because of propriety. Babies are such tiny, delicate little creatures that I’d be bound to drop it. Or snap off one of it’s little appendages...’
‘Dear, dear, dear...’
‘Oh, now I have shocked you. I do beg your pardon. And, oh, heavens, look at the time! I have spent the whole time talking about my stay in Bath, rather than reading you the next instalment of your book.’
‘Dear, dear,’ said Lady Buntingford with just the hint of a smile in her faded eyes.
‘You are a dear to be so forgiving. Well, next time, I shall read another chapter of the book, I promise you. Although I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Evangelina either swoons on to a sofa or weeps floods of tears into her delicate lace hanky.’ She bent over and kissed Lady Buntingford lightly on the forehead. And then, before leaving, she took a large, practical linen square and wiped away the moisture that leaked from the old lady’s eyes and the spittle that ran from the drooping right side of her mouth.
And then, once she’d shut the bedroom door softly behind her on her way out, she paused to dab at her own eyes with a fresh handkerchief. She never let Lady Buntingford see how much her condition upset her. The old lady had been so proud, and so addicted to keeping up appearances, before her seizure. It was no wonder that the only person she permitted to see her, now that she’d been robbed of her dignity, was the gawky, hopeless orphan who’d never had any grace or dignity herself.
She took her bonnet, coat, and shawl from Mrs Paul, the housekeeper, then tugged on her gloves before stepping out of the front door. It had stopped raining, thank goodness, so she hooked her umbrella over her arm and sauntered down the drive to the gate. Mr Paul, who acted as gatekeeper, was as usual ready and waiting with the key in his hand to let her out.
She thanked him and stepped out into the high road, where she noticed a man loitering on the other side of the road. She wasn’t alarmed. Nobody was likely to attack her. For one thing, she wasn’t worth robbing. For another, not even the smugglers who tried to instil terror into just about everyone else in the district would be stupid enough to molest her. Not if they wanted to maintain the uneasy truce they held with Grandfather.
It was a bit odd, though, for someone to lurk just outside the gates of Lady Buntingford’s home. She was just wondering whether she ought to ring the bell for Mr Paul, in case the man was thinking about breaking in, when he launched himself at her.
And all her reasoning about being too unimportant to bother with fled before her instinctive need for self-preservation. With a little yelp, she swung her umbrella at the man who came looming out of her myopic mist, catching him across his upper arm.
‘Miss Hutton!’ He reeled back, clutching his arm. ‘I did not mean to alarm you.’
‘Good grief. Captain Bretherton? Is that you?’ She stepped forward and peered up into the man’s face. Her heart skipped a beat as his features swam into focus. The snub nose sprinkled with freckles. Those blue, blue eyes, looking puzzled and hurt today, rather than sad. That determined chin, containing the mouth she’d just been telling Lady Buntingford she wished she’d kissed. Her head went...fluffy. That was the only way to describe it. And for the first time, she fully understood why so many heroines, in so many books, swooned at the sight of their hero, because right at that moment, anyone could have knocked her down with a feather.
‘What,’ she gasped, ‘are you doing here?’
‘Waiting to escort you home. If I’d thought you would object so thoroughly to my company...’ he said, with a rueful grin.
‘I don’t object to your company. You startled me. You know you did.’
‘Only once you’d bashed me with your umbrella.’
‘I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have...loomed up at me the way you did.’
He took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘I did not loom. I simply walked up to you in a perfectly ordinary way.’
‘It wasn’t ordinary. You were at the very least rushing up to me.’
‘Yes, because I was so pleased to see you after waiting out here for the better part of the afternoon.’
He didn’t sound pleased to see her any longer. But then what man would be pleased to be struck with an umbrella after waiting all afternoon in the rain?
‘Aren’t you pleased to see me, Miss Hutton?’
Disappointed, that was what he sounded. She’d disappointed him. Well, sooner or later, she disappointed everybody.
‘I am pleased to see you, yes. Now that I know it is you.’
‘You didn’t recognise me? Did our...acquaintance mean so little that you have forgotten me already?’
There it was again. Disappointment. Hurt, even. Her words had succeeded where her umbrella had failed.
She was going to have to explain.
‘I haven’t forgotten you. On the contrary, I’ve just spent the entire afternoon telling Lady Buntingford all about you. But the truth is—’
‘You have? What did you tell her?’
‘Never mind,’ she said, blushing as she recalled admitting, out loud, not five minutes since, that she’d half-wished he’d made some attempt to ruin her. ‘The point is, my eyesight is very bad.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I can barely see my hand at the end of my arm, let alone make out the features of someone’s face when they are on the other side of the road.’
‘But...I thought you came to visit Lady Buntingford to read to her.’
‘Oh, reading is easy. I can hold a book less than an inch from my nose and the words are perfectly clear. But anything much further away...’ she pulled a face ‘...disappears into the mist.’
‘But you don’t wear spectacles.’
‘No. Grandfather won’t allow it. He says it is bad enough that I am an ungainly long meg. He doesn’t want to make matters worse by sticking spectacles on my face, the lenses of which would be so thick that they would distort my eyes and make me look like a frog.’
‘You could never look like a frog. And I like the fact that you are tall. And you are not ungainly. I have never danced with a woman who was less ungainly...’
‘The first time we met, I bumped into you—’
‘Because you couldn’t see me lurking behind you,’ he said, as though seeing the light.
‘And,’ she continued relentlessly, ‘the last time we were together, we bumped heads.’
‘Again, because you did not see that I, too, was bending to pick up the chair.’
; ‘Which I had kicked over.’
‘Because I had shocked you.’
‘You? Shocked me?’
‘Yes. Taking your hand like that. When we’d only known each other a couple of days.’
‘If you had shocked me, I would have knocked my chair over when you first took my hand, don’t you think?’
‘Then what was it? Fear of discovery? That someone would see us and your reputation would suffer?’
‘No. It was—’ Her face heated again. She wasn’t ready to confess that she’d been almost overwhelmed by all sorts of highly improper longings.
‘Miss Hutton,’ he said gently. ‘Will you accept my escort to your home? I am holding out my arm. All you have to do is rest your hand upon it and we can proceed. Will you?’
‘I can see that you are holding out your arm,’ she snapped. ‘I can see general shapes, just not details.’
‘But will you? Even though I loomed at you and startled you and annoyed you by not perfectly understanding exactly how bad your eyesight is?’ He sounded as though he was trying not to laugh. Which was better, she supposed, than taking umbrage at her thwacking him and snapping at him.
‘Will you take my arm and allow me to escort you home?’
Chapter Eleven
Allow him to escort her home? She’d just confided to Lady Buntingford she’d been in serious danger of allowing this man to do whatever he wanted with her.
But she knew what she ought to do. A proper young lady would smile coyly and thank him, and say how kind it was of him and lay her hand upon his sleeve demurely.
‘I have no need of an escort along the High Street of Lesser Peeving,’ she snapped, instead. ‘I am perfectly capable of getting myself home.’
‘Armed as you are with such a terrifying umbrella,’ he said with that smile in his voice. ‘But would it not be more pleasant to have someone walk with you? To have me walk with you?’
The Captain Claims His Lady Page 8