Compromising the Marquess (4 page)

“Pickle,” said the lad. “He’s a stray.”

“Nice dog.”

“He’s good at catching rats,” the girl said with the hint of a mischievous smile.

Ah, so she knew who he was. “I’ll bear that in mind if I ever find my home infested.”

They entered the tavern. It was packed but Hal managed to secure a small table in the corner and ordered tankards of ale for the three of them. They were plonked on the table by a barmaid whose bosom literally spilled out of her bodice as she leaned over Hal’s shoulder. She roared with laughter, adjusted her clothing and directed a cheeky wink at him. Ale slopped over the table, trickling onto the girl’s lap. Hal had to resist the urge to wipe it away.

Miss Elliott’s eyes almost popped out of her head as she looked round the place. It must have been obvious that there were many gentlemen present, congenially rubbing shoulders with the lower classes, all rank forgotten as they bonded over a sporting event. His brother Robert was leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with a crew member from Hal’s boat.

The few wenches in the place were rushed, quite literally, off their feet as men paid for their favours. Miss Elliott’s gaze was fixed on Sally, a regular at the Boar’s Head, who was all but giving herself to a bosun at the next table. Hal nodded at the bosun—his own bosun, as it happened. He took the hint, stood up and led Sally outside.

“Want a piece of Sally, do you, lad?”

“Er, no, of course not.” The girl shook her head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Come on now, we’re all men of the world here and I saw you looking.” Hal was hard-pressed to keep his amusement in check. “I can arrange it, if you like, once she’s free. Shouldn’t be long.”

“Er, no thanks.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Leon. What’s yours?”

Hmm, clever. Flick had mentioned her name was Leah. “Henry,” he said truthfully. “Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Where do you work?”

“We’re...er, looking for work. This is my brother, Jonny.”

“What sort of work are you after?”

“Anything that pays.”

“Well, I might be able to help you there. Are you willing to go to sea?”

“No,” said Jonny.

“Yes,” said the girl.

Hal leaned back and flashed an amiable smile. “Well, which is it?”

“We have a few possibilities on land,” Miss Elliott said, appearing to recall that she had the welfare of an ailing sister to consider. “Besides, now that I think about it, I get seasick.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Hal lifted his tankard and hid a smile behind it. He was enjoying himself enormously, pitting his wits against the girl. She was quick on the uptake but no match for him. “You haven’t touched your ale, Leon. Something wrong with it?”

She picked up the tankard, took too long a draught and choked on it. Hal reached across and slapped her across her narrow shoulders.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Hal smiled at the chit. “A strong lad like you. Didn’t think you’d hurt so easily.”

“It’s nothing.” She hid her face behind her tankard, much as Hal had done earlier, presumably in the vain hope of disguising a fiery blush.

“We’d better be getting along, mi...I mean, Leon,” Jonny said, draining his tankard and standing up.

“Oh?” Hal raised one brow. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

“Well, er...there might be some work for us tomorrow and so we have to be up early to stand a chance of being taken on.”

Hal stood also, focusing his attention on Miss Elliott, who remained seated. He could vaguely detect the swell of her breasts, even though he suspected that she’d bound them before covering them with several layers of clothing. “Well, if you change your mind about the work at sea, you can always find me here.”

“What sort of work would it be?” she asked, ignoring Jonny when he tugged at her sleeve. Presumably he’d noticed more than one person glancing at her with speculative interest as soon as she stood up and displayed her appealing posterior. Hal should have anticipated that but he’d been having too much fun teasing her and, for once, had relaxed his guard.

“Oh, just general deckhand duties. You wouldn’t mind that so much, would you, Leon? Bunking down with a lot of other lads can be quite jolly.”

Miss Elliott swallowed, her blush deepening. “Well, I—”

“Not shy, are you? We’re all made the same way.” The extent of Hal’s desire to discover exactly how Miss Elliott was put together surprised him. That tempting derriere, those deliciously slender thighs, caused no end of inappropriate thoughts to tumble through his head. He didn’t need the distraction of inquisitive virgins to deflect him from his purpose.

“No, but like I said, I get seasick.”

“Oh, you’d soon get over that. A tot or two of rum settles a queasy stomach quickly enough.”

“Yes, well, thank you. We’ll think about it.”

Hal held out his hand, forcing her to offer him her own. It disappeared into his and he held it there for a fraction too long, sparks of awareness jolting him as he did so.

“Off you go,” he said gruffly, releasing her. “And take care out there.”

Rob joined him as he watched the two of them force their way through the crowd.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Miss Elliott.”

Rob’s eyebrows shot upwards. “The girl Flick’s decided to take up?” Hal nodded. “What the devil’s she doing here, disguised?”

“Good question.” Hal frowned. “But I don’t like it.”

Rob laughed. “I could see how much you didn’t like it.” His expression darkened. “Should we be concerned about her?”

“We can’t afford not to be. As you say, why else would she be here, unless she’s in the pay of our foes?”

“It’s a bold move, sending a lass to do a man’s work.” Rob frowned. “But deuced clever. It never would have occurred to me.”

“Quite.” Hal set his jaw. “Send someone after them to see if they contact anyone else.”

“Will do.”

“Tell your man to keep them in his sights and see if they talk to anyone. Tell him to make sure they get home unmolested, as well. I wasn’t the only man in here to notice her...er, attributes.”

As Rob sauntered off to do his bidding, Hal tried to decide how best to get Flick to call on Miss Elliott sooner rather than later. He would need to make it seem as though he actually didn’t wish her to. If she guessed the truth, it would be a sure way to make her do just the opposite.

Chapter Four

Leah tossed and turned, searching for the sleep that eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, the events of that evening flashed through her mind in a chaotic jumble. The sheer brutality of the fight was still an unsettling open sore but her unexpected encounter with the marquess was even harder to analyse.

She hadn’t known what to expect when instinct led her to the Boar’s Head, but the possibility of actually meeting him hadn’t once crossed her mind. Whatever was going on there—and she was more convinced than ever that
something
was—it had to do with him. The man had such presence that, annoyingly, she fell under his thrall in spite of herself, her own willpower leaking away beneath the sheer force of his personality. Blond hair several shades darker than his sister’s fell across his face. Well, the bits too short to be added to his queue did. His features were beautifully chiselled, his brown eyes full of unsettling intelligence, as though he’d seen through her disguise and was entertaining himself by toying with her.

His handshake, the upward curve of his lips as he trained amused eyes on her, had made her head spin and her whole person feel unaccountably warm. Leah knew her reaction hadn’t been occasioned by fear. The breadth of his shoulders, the lithe grace that underscored his movements, the tensile restlessness she’d sensed about him, combined to unsettle her. She’d never met anyone quite like him before. Could his robust physicality be the result of time spent working on his boat himself? Leah laughed aloud at her foolishness. The marquess was reputed to be exceedingly wealthy. Why would he do his own manual work?

But then, why would he frequent such a lowly establishment as the Boar’s Head
,
unless he was simply there for the fight, much as other gentlemen appeared to have been? Somehow she doubted that. His boat was moored in that secluded cove for a particular reason, and she was more determined than ever to discover what that reason was.

She was up early the following morning, her account of the mill already written and on its way to Mr. Morris before Beth joined her.

“How did it go last night?” Beth asked, kissing her sister and taking her usual place at the table.

“Rather interesting, actually.” Leah supplied a heavily edited version, making no mention of the marquess.

Beth grimaced. “I can’t imagine anything more disagreeable than seeing two grown men trying to kill one another with their bare hands.”

“It’s not a spectacle that I’m in any hurry to witness again.”

“Hopefully then, you won’t feel tempted to go near the Boar’s Head.”

Before Leah could reply, Meg appeared.

“Lady Felicity to see you,” she said, sounding rather flustered.

“Oh, so soon?” Beth looked up from her embroidery, her face alight with interest. “What ought we to make of that, Leah?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Show her in, Meg.”

Lady Felicity, looking as fresh as sunshine in pale lilac muslin, tripped lightly into the room. “Miss Elliott.” She held out both hands to Leah. “Call me impetuous, my brothers frequently do, but I couldn’t wait a moment longer to further our acquaintance.” She turned to Beth. “And you must be Miss Bethany Elliott. How do you do.”

Beth stood and curtsied. “I do very well, Lady Felicity. It’s kind of you to call on us.”

“Please sit down, Lady Felicity.” Leah studied their visitor whilst she was engaged with Beth, unsettled by the similarities between the features of brother and sister. “Meg, some tea for our visitor, if you would be so kind.”

“Don’t let me put you to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble to boil a kettle,” Meg said.

Lady Felicity took the seat beside Beth and shook out her skirts. “What are you sewing?” Beth showed off her work. “It’s a runner for the dining table.”

“How exquisite. I do envy you your talent. Personally, I can scarce set a stitch.”

“Surely that can’t be true.” Beth looked astonished. “A lady in your position. I should have thought—”

“It most certainly is. I simply don’t have the patience.”

Beth laughed. “You and Leah have something in common then. She doesn’t care to sew, which is something I’ve never understood. How could any woman not wish to create beautiful things?”

“We all have different talents, which is just as well or the world would be a very boring place,” Leah said. “Besides, you do well enough for us both, darling.”

“Don’t try and pretend that you have no talents, Leah,” Beth said severely. “Not only are you very clever but you also sing like an angel.”

“Oh,” Lady Felicity said, smiling. “How lovely. I so wish I could sing.”

“Leah inherited some of our mother’s talent.”

“You two are so lucky,” Lady Felicity said with a wistful sigh. “It’s already apparent to me that you’re very close. How I wish I had a sister.”

“But you
do
have three brothers.”

“Yes, I certainly do.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it’s hardly the same. I can’t discuss my heart’s desires or share secrets with them in the way I’ve always thought I might with a sister. And I most definitely can’t tell them about my paramours. They would either scare them off or call them out if I did.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected,” Leah said, “but I always thought that I should like a brother.”

“Well then, you can share mine, since I come with an invitation for you both to dine with us tomorrow evening, if you are free.”

“Oh.” Leah hadn’t seriously expected the promised invitation to materialise. She exchanged a quick glance with Beth. There was more animation in her lovely eyes than Leah had seen there for many a long month, causing the refusal she’d been formulating to stall on her lips. Besides, if she met the marquess in a social situation, she might glean more information for her investigation. “Thank you, Lady Felicity. We would be delighted.”

“I shall have to invite your uncle and aunt, of course.” She pulled a face. “But at least they’ll be able to bring you in their carriage. Unless you would prefer me to send one of ours for you? Say so at once if you would prefer it. It can easily be arranged.”

“No, we wouldn’t put you to such trouble.”

“I’m so glad you can come. It will be such fun and, of course, you will sing for us, Leah?”

“Well, I’m not sure that I—”

“Nonsense, I insist.” Lady Felicity stood to take her leave. “But now, if you will excuse me, I have other calls to make.”

“Thank you again, Lady Felicity,” Leah said.

“Oh, call me Flick, please.”

“Flick?”

“Everyone who knows me well calls me that,” she said, giggling. “If any of my brothers address me as Felicity, I know I’ve done something to earn their displeasure. If it’s Hal, I also know to make myself scarce until he has time to calm down.”

Leah smiled. “The marquess has a temper, then?”

“Only with me,” she said, screwing up her nose.

“Well,” Leah said, “we shall certainly think of you as Flick, if that’s what you want.”

“Absolutely. We’re now firm friends and I see no occasion to stand on ceremony. But now, you really must excuse me.”

Leah escorted her to the door herself and waved her off in a curricle driven by a liveried groom.

“Well,” she said, returning to the sitting room. “What do you make of that?”

“I think she’s charming and that we shall enjoy her society.”

Leah rolled her eyes.
“Of course you do!”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? I know you think I’m too trusting, but what possible motive could a lady in Felicity’s position have to befriend us, unless she was doing so by choice?”

“You’re right, and I’m being a suspicious crosspatch. Forgive me, I didn’t sleep well.”

“You do look rather heavy-eyed.” Beth frowned. “Are you sickening for something?”

“Lord no, I’m never ill. You know that.” Leah paused. “But I still think there’s something odd about Flick’s determination to know us.”

“Stop worrying about her motives and think about what you intend to wear tomorrow evening instead.”

“What does that matter?” Leah dismissed the subject with a casual wave of one hand. “You’re the one who must wrestle with that thorny issue. You shall shine and I shall bask in reflected glory.”

“No,” Beth said with uncharacteristic firmness. “I will have my way in this. My shot-silver silk is far too big for me since I became ill. I could adjust the hem, let the flounces down a little, so that it fits you.”

“Oh, Beth, no, that’s your favourite gown.”

“And no use to me if it’s too large.”

“You could take it in.”

“But you keep insisting that I shall regain my former figure, so what would be the point in that?”

Leah flashed a rueful smile, aware that she’d been outmanoeuvred. Her most earnest desire, frequently expressed, was to see her sister restored to her former state of health. “Very well, darling, but you must promise not to tire yourself in making the adjustments.”

Before Beth could respond, the door opened and their aunt came in unannounced.

“Well, girls,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement of their curtsies. “What a to-do. Your uncle and me being invited to the Hall I can understand, but why Lady Felicity should think to invite you two is a complete mystery.”

“Felicity is our friend,” Beth said quietly.

“Felicity!” Aunt Augusta’s eyes bulged. “Felicity! Have you run completely mad, child? You cannot address the sister of a marquess in such a familiar manner, not even in private.”

“She invited us to do so, aunt,” Leah said, resuming her seat.

“What have you been up to, girl?” She narrowed her eyes at Leah. “As always, you’ve been too forward and disgraced us all with your antics.”

Leah knew her aunt’s spite was occasioned by jealousy and wisely held her tongue.

“What shall you wear tomorrow night, aunt?” Beth asked, effectively deflecting the woman’s wrath away from Leah.

Leah tuned out of a conversation that centred on spider gauze, ribbons, flounces and the correct length for sleeves. She suddenly had an overwhelming urge to put to sea as cabin boy, under the auspices of a man whose intense gaze she couldn’t seem to dispel from her thoughts, and for whom she’d willingly suffer several bouts of seasickness.

“I gave some leftover pork to Meg,” her aunt said, recalling Leah’s attention to the conversation. “I was unsure about it and thought to put it out for the dogs, but you might want to take a chance.”

Leah bit her tongue, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t put additional strain on her already fragile relationship with her aunt.

“Thank you, aunt,” Beth said sweetly.

“What can you tell us about the Forster family?” Leah asked. “Were you not intimate with the late marquess’s second wife?”

“Indeed I was.” Aunt Augusta tilted her chin and thrust out her chest. “We were constantly in one another’s company, until the old marquess died three years ago.”

“His widow does not reside at the Hall?”

Aunt Augusta sniffed. “No, there’s bad blood between her and the current marquess, and he would not permit her to remain in the district.”

“Surely not?” Leah mused. “Why would he be so spiteful?”

“I don’t know all the particulars because my friend found it too distressing to discuss the matter.” Without a word of thanks, Aunt Augusta accepted the cup of tea Meg handed to her and sipped at it. “This tea is too weak.”

Leah and Meg exchanged a glance. “We prefer it that way,” Leah said.

Aunt Augusta sniffed. “All I can tell you is that Lady Denby is not to blame for the rift with her stepson.”

“How long ago did Lady Denby and the old marquess marry?” Leah asked.

“Well, let me see.” Aunt Augusta’s features lost their customary pinched expression of disapproval as she showed off her intimacy with the local aristocracy. “Young Lord Gabriel was still in short coats. He could not have been more than five or six when his mother died. Since he is now one-and-twenty—”

“Fifteen years then.”

“It must be all of that. When Lady Denby and the marquess married, she naturally took up residence at the Hall and acted as step-mama to his children.”

Leah nodded. “Why did that cause bad feeling?”

“I’m not precisely sure.” Aunt Augusta’s words were accompanied by an eloquent shrug. “I do know that the current marquess was greatly attached to his mother.”

“Are you suggesting that he resented his father’s remarriage?” Leah asked, frowning. The gentleman she’d crossed swords with the night before didn’t strike her as being that mean-spirited.

“Perhaps he did, I really couldn’t say. He would have been fourteen or fifteen when his mother passed.”

“An impressionable age,” Leah said, eager to hear more.

“Indeed. My friend tried to be a good mother to her stepchildren but her efforts were not appreciated. Henry, the eldest, was away at school but I believe there was some unpleasantness whenever he came home.” Aunt Augusta sighed. “Then, of course, Lady Denby produced children of her own.”

“She and the marquess have a family?” Leah hadn’t known that.

“Oh yes, a boy and a girl.”

“So Felicity
does
have a sister,” Beth said. “Well, a half sister.”

“Yes, but there’s quite an age gap. I don’t think they were ever intimate.”

“Where are they now?” Leah asked. “If the marquess doesn’t wish his stepmother to reside at the Hall, surely he can’t object to her inhabiting the dower house?”

“You would think so, but she chose not to do so. The marquess left them one of his smaller estates—he has a great number scattered across the country—in Hampshire. They reside there, living on the funds that the marquess set aside for them, and are seldom invited to the Hall.”

Leah’s mind whirled. It seemed that the current marquess had not treated his father’s second family honourably. There might well be something in that to interest Mr. Morris. Whatever unpleasantness had occurred, Lady Denby’s children were still his blood relations and ought to be acknowledged as such.

“Do you still correspond with Lady Denby, aunt?”

“Oh yes, I hear from her regularly. She’s anxious to know how things go on in the village. She lived here for so long that she grew very attached to the district.”