Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone?

by Donna Cummings

  Richard stepped forward, but then halted. Miss Lockhart was standing at the front door, gazing with obvious fondness at something in front of her. The nearby tree limbs blocked his view of whatever lucky object it was that had elicited such a beautiful smile. He felt a rather sharp pang of jealousy. He was determined to have her smile upon him in that same fashion one day. With any luck, it would be today.

  "Miss Lockhart! How fortunate I am to have found you here."

  She spun to look in his direction, and the smile she had been wearing slid away, to be replaced with a frown filled with disapproval.

  He nearly laughed at the instant change. His work was indeed cut out for him. Yet he loved a challenge as much as anything else in life. And Miss Lockhart was a challenge like no other.

  "Mr. Hayward. It appears you have lost your way. I will be happy to send you on to your original destination. Where were you bound?"

  This time he did laugh. "I appreciate your willingness to aid me, but this is my destination."

  She raised her eyebrows, not attempting to hide her consternation. "Have you come to see my father?"

  "No, not at all." He coughed, striving for the right combination of sounds that would incite concern on her part, yet not have her committing him to an asylum for the terminally afflicted. "I wondered if perhaps you had a tincture that could soothe this ailment of mine."

  "You will have to be more specific." Her lips fought off a grin. "I cannot be certain which of your many ailments you are speaking of."

  "Many?" Richard found himself laughing once more, something he seemed to do a great deal of when in Miss Lockhart's company. He wished to return the favor. He sensed she did not indulge in levity very often. "Now you have me concerned. I should have realized your keen eye would see what truly ails me."

  He hoped she would lob another of her barbs at him, but instead she gave him an assessing look. "Perhaps a cup of tea will prove beneficial to my diagnosis."

  "I can see I am in the most capable hands already."

  She gave her head a little shake, her lips fighting off another smile, and then turned towards the front door. "You are uncommonly persistent, Mr. Hayward."

  "I have been described in that fashion many times. Yet there is not a consensus on whether it is an admirable trait or an abominable one."

  A chuckle escaped her lips. Progress! She did her best to appear unaffected. Still, Richard was heartened that she found him at least slightly amusing. She walked through the open doorway, and he followed her inside.

  He stopped to gaze at the interior of the cottage, a remarkably cozy environment, one which caused his heart another pang. He had rarely given much thought to his surroundings, always on the march as he was, and now he felt rather nostalgic for something he had never needed, or wanted, until this moment.

  Miss Lockhart gave him another curious glance, and he forced himself to return to the persona she expected, that of the slightly oafish suitor who would not be put off. She was much too perceptive. He had no intentions of letting her make him lose his footing. No, he wanted to have her reveal more of herself instead.

  "What a lovely home," he commented.

  "Thank you. I cannot imagine living anywhere else."

  She motioned him to take a seat while she busied herself making tea, but he found himself intrigued with everything about the parlor. He walked around, perusing the figurines on the mantel, along with the books stacked neatly on nearly every surface. He glanced at the closest pile. Medical books, from the looks of it, and he knew instantly they were being studied by Miss Lockhart.

  She returned to the parlor with a tray, and he hurried to take it from her hands. It clearly surprised her, and maybe even pleased her. He set it down on a nearby table and waited until she seated herself before taking the chair across from her. She poured the tea into two china cups and handed one to him.

  "Which of my many ailments will this alleviate?" he asked.

  She chuckled. "It is no miracle cure."

  "I'd wager you are wishing it could ward off unwelcome visitors."

  "Not at all. I rarely have visitors, so I cannot count any of them as unwelcome."

  "I am surprised. I would have thought your doorstep would be inundated."

  "Fortunately everyone in the village is hale and hearty at the moment. When they are not, the doorstep is close to overflowing. But as I enjoy helping them, I have no complaints."

  Richard settled himself against the sofa cushions. It was a great deal more comfortable than the one in the Dowager's parlor. He could envision sitting for a while longer, especially since he could gaze upon Miss Lockhart's beautiful face.

  Not that she would see herself as a beauty. He was sure of that. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a knot, for convenience sake, not to serve fashion's ideals. Several tendrils had worked loose, and she brushed at them impatiently. Her eyes were a deep blue, and fringed with dark lashes that many a London miss would envy. Yet it was her lips he found impossibly alluring. Full, and rosy, and too often, tightened with disapproval, especially where he was concerned.

  But when she forgot herself, and smiled...

  She lifted her teacup and took a sip. "What brought you here today?"

  He coughed, delicately. "My ailment, of course. Though I am already feeling quite restored." He glanced inside his cup. "I can only imagine what sort of remedy this contains. I wonder if it only works while I am here."

  He waited for her instant dismissal of his hopeful desire to be allowed to return. To his delight, she replied, "Perhaps we should discover if that is true."

  Before he could assure himself she was truly inviting him to return, there was a rather loud clamor at the door. Her face instantly filled with concern. She stood, and raced out of the room. Richard stayed right on her heels.

  They followed the sounds of two distinct wailing voices, and soon came upon a young mother carrying her son, a lad of about four years, who had a fair amount of blood on his knee.

  "Another scrape, Thomas?" Miss Lockhart asked in a soothing voice. There was no hint of disapproval from her, although the boy's mother was quick to fill that void.

  "He's always getting into one scrape or another," she said. Her exasperated voice belied the obvious concern on her face. "I should probably leave him here until he is completely grown."

  That caused the young boy to protest loudly. The mother tried to shift him in her arms, but Richard could see she was struggling, especially with the boy kicking up a fuss.

  "That is what we lads do, getting into scrapes." He rushed forward and lifted the boy into his own arms. The shock of it caused the boy to halt his howling. "We are rather good at it, are we not?"

  The boy nodded. "I am always finding trouble. That's what my mum says anyway."

  Miss Lockhart tilted her head, signaling Richard that she wanted him to carry the boy into another room. He headed that direction, continuing his conversation with Thomas. "I am convinced that trouble finds me. It is always lurking about, determined to march right along wherever I am going."

  "What kind of trouble finds you?"

  "All sorts. Partly because trouble is often disguised as a grand adventure. In truth, my two cousins and I seemed to attract it nearly every day when we were your age." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "We still do."

  Miss Lockhart grinned, and Richard's heart soared. Such a small gesture, yet he found it so gratifying.

  "If you could set Thomas on the table here," she instructed, "I can get a better look at what ails him."

  Richard returned the grin, gently depositing the boy on the table, but when he tried to step away, Thomas grabbed his hand. Whatever bravado the lad possessed, he was still a young one, and Richard was happy to help allay his fears.

  Miss Lockhart began her examination by gently touching the boy's knee, and he jerked reflexively. She pretended not to see it, though, and turned to gather something to clean it off. The boy's mother stood by, wringing her hands, and before s
he could start worrying aloud, Richard decided it would be a grand idea to distract them both.

  But how? He had little experience with such a task. It had been many years since he had been a rough-and-tumble boy, wreaking havoc wherever he went. Still, he wanted to demonstrate to Miss Lockhart that he could prove useful under the circumstances.

  She seemed to sense his intentions, for she looked up and said, "The Dowager has mentioned some of the commotion you and your cousins have caused her throughout the years."

  He attempted to look repentant, but she merely rolled her eyes, and then turned her attention back to Thomas's knee. Clearly his aunt's tales of his misspent youth had not given her the wrong impression of him. She had not yet shown him to the door.

  "What is commotion?" Thomas asked, his forehead wrinkled with confusion.

  "It is a form of trouble," Richard answered. He pondered which of the many episodes might entertain the young boy. "For instance, during one visit with our aunt, when we were just a few years older than you are, we decided we would tease her a bit with this new cane she had acquired. She had no real need of it, but she was exceedingly fond of it. We managed to shorten it a little bit each day—"

  "How?"

  Richard shook his head. "I cannot give away too many secrets. I also have to protect our accomplices."

  Miss Lockhart snorted, but kept her attention fixed on Thomas's knee, gently cleaning it while the boy was otherwise distracted.

  "Each day she used the cane," Richard continued, "she was hunched over just a little bit more." He tried to cover a smile at the memory. "Naturally she became convinced she was shrinking—"

  "I remember that episode. She called my father over to the house several times," Miss Lockhart added, biting back a grin. "He measured her each time to demonstrate she was not reducing in height. He fretted that he might never convince her of the truth."

  "It probably did not help his cause when we found ways to make ourselves taller each time he departed."

  "I like that one." Thomas beamed his approval. "Did she ever learn what you did?"

  "Not at first. We kept the ruse going for a good week at least. We probably would have attempted it beyond that, but we were a bit overzealous and sawed the cane completely in two."

  Thomas giggled with absolute delight. His mother gave Richard a look of dismay, as if he had just enlisted her child into a devil's brigade that would terrorize the countryside. Richard had to remedy the situation, and quickly, before he was forbidden to ever return.

  "We were punished for our trickery, of course." He shuddered, as if recalling the terrible punishment he had endured, when in truth it had been negligible. "We were not allowed outside for the longest time."

  "How long?" Thomas was clearly weighing the possibilities of adding the incident to his repertoire of mischief.

  "Longer than I had anticipated." Richard leaned forward and whispered, "Today is the first day since that incident that I was allowed to leave the house."

  The boy's eyes widened with shock. His mother gave a huge sigh of relief. Richard heard an assortment of sounds from Miss Lockhart that he recognized as laughter disguised as coughing. Somehow she managed to finish placing the bandage on Thomas's knee.

  "You are as good as new," she announced. "But if you find yourself in another tangle with trouble—"

  Thomas shook his head, gazing solemnly at Richard the entire time. "I am going to run far away from trouble. I don't want it catching me any time soon."

  Richard gave the boy a wink. "If it ever does catch up to you, I will be happy to disentangle you. After all, we mischief makers must protect each other, correct?"

  Thomas nodded, his sunny disposition restored. He glanced down, judging whether to jump from the table, but changing his mind at the last minute. He held his arms out toward Richard, and Richard stepped forward quickly, lifting the boy and setting him safely on the floor.

  "Goodbye—" The boy hesitated, then looked at his mom, not sure how to address Richard.

  He knelt until he was at eye level with Thomas. "Mr. Hayward." He held his hand out and the lad gave it a hearty shake. "It has been a pleasure getting to know you today."

  Thomas giggled and then ran to his mother. She scooped him into a hug, and then thanked Miss Lockhart profusely, promising to bring payment soon. Miss Lockhart brushed away the woman's concerns, assuring her she was happy to take care of the slight injury at no cost.

  He and Miss Lockhart watched as the pair headed down the country lane, the boy skipping and laughing, his mother chasing after him.

  "I'd lay odds he lands in some sort of trouble before they make it home," Richard said, chuckling.

  "You cannot tempt me with that wager, since I agree with you."

  He pretended to be shocked. "Miss Lockhart, it seems you said you are in agreement with me. Or perhaps I misheard, and you said you find me perfectly agreeable."

  Her laugh was the treat he had been wishing for, and just as delightful as he had expected. "Come inside and allow me to check your hearing, for I cannot imagine ever using the word perfect to describe you."

  Richard grinned and followed her into the house once more, happier than he had been in ages.

  Chapter 10

  Constance set her teacup down on the table, trying not to smile at her mischievous companion. She had bestowed too many smiles on him that day, despite her efforts to keep him at bay, and she worried he might get the wrong impression of her. She was serious, quite serious, only he managed to make her forget that. It was no wonder she had done her best to avoid his company.

  Only now she did not really want to avoid him. He was a delightful companion, filled with high spirits and lively tales. She had thoroughly enjoyed his encounter with Thomas, from the first moment he had realized the boy needed a distraction from his woes, to the instant when he had discovered, too late, that he was filling the lad with fresh ideas for troublemaking.

  But she knew it was foolish to let her guard down any further with a charmer like Mr. Hayward. There was really no sense in allowing herself anything more than this one visit, for he was here to see the Dowager for a brief time, and then he would be off to parts unknown. She had no intention of allowing him to take even a small piece of her heart with him. It had taken her much too long to recover after the last time she had followed similar entreaties from her heart.

  "How goes the Dowager's plans to marry off all of her nephews?"

  Mr. Hayward frowned. "You know of that?"

  "Of course I do. Even if she had not informed me ahead of time, I would have gathered something was happening once I saw three panicked men standing well away from the invading horde of debutantes."

  "Panicked seems a bit much," he protested. "Though invading horde is an apt description."

  She laughed at his expression of dismay. "The Dowager will be disappointed if you thwart her plans."

  "Possibly, though she should be quite used to that by now. Although, Miles has found himself quite besotted already."

  "Indeed? And which debutante was the lucky one?"

  Richard grinned. "It is Mrs. Seton, actually. The one our aunt enlisted to parade the hopeful misses in front of us until we succumbed."

  "That is a surprise. Though I found Mrs. Seton to be rather sweet and solicitous when I came to the Dowager's—"

  "When you resisted my offer to see you home," Richard added cheerfully.

  "Yes, for all the good it did." She took a sip of tea. "Your persistence proved stronger than my resistance."

  He winked. "It probably always will."

  She choked on the tea, and began coughing. He was instantly out of his seat, offering assistance, but she waved him off. She tried to give him a glare, but her heart wasn't in it. Not at all. In truth, she enjoyed their conversation, and even though he had decided to fix his attentions on her for whatever reason, she wanted to revel in it for a bit longer. She probably should not encourage him past this visit, however.

  Her resolve la
sted only until his next comment.

  "You have such a soothing way with your patients. I am eager to know more of your future plans in the medical profession."

  "Besides diagnosing and treating your myriad ailments?" she teased.

  "Yes, besides those." He picked up a book beside him and flipped through the pages. "If I were to quiz you on something in here, would you pass with flying colors?"

  She did not have a chance to retort, for a booming voice answered instead. "She knows more than those books, sir. She could write her own treatise if she chose. It is criminal that she is not allowed to be licensed, merely because of her gender."

  Constance bit back her smile at Richard's obvious surprise. He shot up to his feet and gave a quick nod to her father, who was still frowning at the man who dared to question her competence.

  "Father, this is Mr. Hayward..."

  "Ah, yes, the Dowager's nephew." His frown deepened. "You and your cousins were the cause of much concern for Lady Thornham."

  "I fear we still are."

  Doctor Lockhart laughed, and Richard joined in.

  The doctor leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. "I must confess I was rather partial to the time you nearly convinced her she was losing her eyesight."

  "Yes, that was indeed one of our finer moments." Mr. Hayward swallowed, clearly trying to hide his amusement at the memory. "Though Miles deserves the credit for devising that one. I am still not entirely certain how he fogged up the lenses in her lorgnette so many days in a row."

  To Constance's surprise, her father laughed again, another booming sound. "That was a devilish good one." He held his hand out and Richard shook it.

  "Thank you, sir. I suppose I should also thank you for patching us up a time or two during our youthful escapades." He rubbed at a slight scar near his hairline. "This occurred before William's skill with a wooden sword had fully developed."