My Lady Mischief (7 page)

"I've spoken with Thea and I will not force her to marry you."

Hartingfield sat upright and shot a steely look at his host. The man had taken leave of his wits! A father was supposed to insist upon marriage if his innocent daughter was compromised. What was the man playing at? And what was it about Steyne Hall that forcibly reminded him of a madhouse? "I did compromise her."

"You are under a misapprehension. I made acceptable excuses to my guests about your disappearance tonight. So, I repeat, you misapprehend." The earl fidgeted in his chair but his voice did not waver. "Since neither Thea nor I assert she was compromised, there the matter rests. She was not compromised."

"I cannot credit that you would fail to protect Lady Althea this way, Steyne." Hart, himself, wanted to protect her. Mayhap the man was insane—or was he himself a prime candidate for Bedlam?

Lord Steyne's fist descended to his desk with a loud thump. "My daughter will marry for love or not marry at all!"

"Are you saying that she doesn't love me?"

The earl's face crumpled. "I do not know. And neither does she. She says not."

"Am I to assume she told you everything that happened?"

"Enough to assure me you would feel she'd been compromised and you would try to force her into an unwanted marriage," the earl replied.

Hart's eyes narrowed. "Surely she did not imply I had forced unwanted attentions upon her?"

"No, merely that one of her schemes had reversed on her." The old earl plucked at his upper lip for a moment. He then reached into his vest and pulled out a letter. Holding out the packet, he said, "Read this."

Hart's temples pounded as he stared for some moments at Steyne's outstretched hand. Finally he took the letter, certain the contents would somehow change everything. As if expecting adders to leap out at him, he cautiously opened it, then recognizing the handwriting of his father, began to read. Upon reaching the section where his own name was linked with Thea's he slowly raised his eyes to meet Steyne's.

"Is Lady Althea aware of this letter?" His tone was deadly.

The earl shook his head. "She is totally unaware of it and I would have her remain that way."

It didn't help that his father sought the match. In fact, it did the reverse. Since the death of his mother, he'd found his father to be arrogant and unapproachable. After reaching the age of majority, his relationship with the duke was strained and Hart's first inclination was to pursue whichever course the duke would most dislike. More recently, Hart fought against that urge and tried to use reason rather than impulse in their dealings.

And this still did not change matters. Thea had been compromised.

Feeling firmly caught in the noose, he tapped the letter and asked, "Did you plan this situation?"

"No. But the duke is correct, Thea is very much like her mother. However, she is a spirited girl and I find it increasingly difficult to check her untoward behavior."

"Ah ha," Hart exclaimed with a mock smile. "So you do admit that your daughter is at fault."

"At fault, possibly. But you alone are the one responsible for the position in which she now finds herself." The earl's voice became a shout. "God's blood, man, what were you thinking of, remaining out in the gardens with her beyond all that is proper? I can only assume it was your intent to compromise her!"

Hart had the grace to look ashamed, for Steyne's words held a grain of truth. Some insanity had prompted him to choose just that. Was it his fault that his brain ceased functioning whenever she was near?

Steyne continued, "It is time for her to marry. To that end, it is my plan to send her to London for the season. Her aunt, Lady Prunella, will handle her presentation at court and to society." The older man paused, searching for words. "What I am trying to tell you, Hartingfield, is that I would be delighted by an alliance of our families. I merely will not compel Thea to wed where her heart does not lead her. Therefore, I expect you will do whatever it takes to convince her that you are her choice. Do I make myself clear?"

"You are
directing
that, in London, I court her?" Hart detected the subtle demand behind the earl's words. He did not respond well to demands, subtle or otherwise.

"Yes, unless you are the sort of
gentleman
who preys upon innocent young females. Yes. In London I expect you to court her."

At these words, Hart felt the noose make a final adjustment, almost cutting off his air. Without thought, his hand reached up and pulled at his neckcloth, completely disarranging its once precise folds.

The earl went on, "I'm too old to stand by and watch. While I will not force Thea to marry you, I have insisted she allow you to court her as she would with any of her other suitors. Make your case in London." He stood and placed a crinkled hand on Hart's shoulder. "You are a good lad and I foresee that soon I may call you son. I bid you goodnight."

Hart closed his eyes but heard the earl's footsteps
as he left the room. He sympathized with Steyne, he truly did. Lady Althea wasn't an easy young woman to contain, but he failed to see why he should be elected the one to control her.

Using a neatly folded handkerchief, he wiped perspiration from his forehead. What crazy betwaddled impulse had led him to behave in a manner so depraved?

Of one thing only was he certain. He desired Thea. Wisdom dictated that he avoid her at all costs. After all, his life was pleasant and orderly as it was. The sameness had led to a bit of boredom, but what was boredom compared to sheer madness?

Yet, honor dictated the opposite. And, he was a man of honor.

Making matters worse, he was unable to remove her image from his mind or the feel of her soft skin from his fingertips. As a substitute, a goodly portion of blue ruin would have to suffice. Perhaps a servant would know where some could be obtained.

After yanking the bell-pull, it was only a matter of minutes before a footman responded.

Tearing off his neckcloth, Hart eyed the footman. Then, with a grin, he said, "I'll wager a gold sovereign you can't find me a bottle of gin."

"I'll take you up on that wager, your lordship," the footman agreed and ran to do his bidding before Hart changed his mind.

He was left alone, stroking his ear and muttering to the closed door. "I can only hope the fellow was not another of these cursed phantoms."

*

The housekeeper's parlor was nearly dark; blinds prevented all but the dimmest of daylight from entering the room. It was furnished with only the most utilitarian of furniture, not because ornaments were forbidden but because it was simply her character. She stood, bent over the only other occupant of the parlor.

Lady Althea's abigail, Meg, sat pitifully huddled upon a straight-backed chair. She pulled her apron over her head and began to weep in earnest, but not before the housekeeper had seen the red spots covering her tear-streaked face.

"Merciful Heavens," she cried. "Measles!" The housekeeper scurried to summon Miss Mimms.

As his valet placed a tray in front of him, Hart awoke to the muffled sounds of frantic activity at Steyne Hall. Remembrance hit him painfully over the head. His assault upon Lady Althea and his decision to marry the chit had surely been insanity. He wondered if moonlight madness had affected him last evening, or Steyne Hall enchantment? At last he put his disturbing behavior to rest under a heading neatly labeled
overly tired.

He slurped a bit of his tea and then cringed. How was it possible to sip too loudly? Turning to look over his shoulder at Hobbs, he abruptly checked his movement and placed a hand upon his forehead to make sure it remained attached. "It is time we depart this topsy-turvy household and return to the safety of London."

"I knew you'd come to your senses, m'lord. And, I doubt, none too soon."

Soon, the morning's rituals were complete and Hart, with only a lingering headache, went to inform his host that he would be leaving that noon. Upon hearing Hartingfield's regrets, Steyne had the appearance of a man relieved of a heavy burden. Unknowingly, Hartingfield's eyebrow quirked, the exact image of his father the duke at his stodgy best.

The earl reacted to his arrogant expression, as if the younger man now commanded a higher status. "I hope you will indulge me, Lord Hartingfield, in a request that I will make."

Hart noted the formality of Steyne's speech and studied the man for a clue to his behavior. He had never before noticed just what a booming voice the man had. Could he be regretting his earlier dismissal of his request for Lady Althea's hand? "I will do my best to assist you, sir."

"Thea's abigail has come down with the measles. Miss Mimms reminds me that my daughter has never contracted this ailment." Steyne was aware that he was exaggerating it a bit, but no one knew for certain whether she had ever contracted the disease.

Hart groaned inwardly. Blast it, he knew what would be coming next.

Steyne fidgeted in his chair. "I would be most grateful if you would escort my daughter to her aunt's in London. My original plan was for this to take place in a fortnight though I've been dreading it. I have a great dislike of travel. Miss Rawlings and her nurse were to accompany us since Miss Mimms is scheduled to visit our cousin, Constance. I know it's a great imposition, but I would very much appreciate your assistance in escorting them in my stead."

Though he wanted to court Thea, Hart would have chosen a better time to do it. However, there was only one response he could make. "I would be honored to serve you in this way."

Hart's chagrin at the request was preempted by the large smile that now covered the earl's face.

"We still have other, unfinished, business, sir," Hart said. Failing to discuss this subject would be unacceptable to his own demanding father.

"The seed drill?"

"No, Mack can remain with you to finish the installation. I wished to remind you of the land the duke mentioned in his letter. It adjoins our Haversham estate. He may have used it as an excuse to send me to you but he truly hoped to acquire the property."

The earl took a moment to think. "Shall we consider it a part of Thea's dowry?"

Hart couldn't suppress a self-satisfied smirk. He suspected what was to follow: an acceptance of his offer for Thea. As if his thoughts conjured her up, she burst into the room. She looked most becomingly furious.

"Papa!" Injured rage caused her voice to crack. "I came to ask about your decision to remove me to London. But, did I hear you properly? You are discussing my portion with Lord Hartingfield?"

She turned to face Hart. "Excuse me, my lord. I would speak with my father privately," she said dismissively.

"Althea!" The earl's voice reverberated.

"That is all right, Steyne," he soothed. "I believe
we
understand each other. I must see to my carriage." He nodded to each before leaving the room, causing his head to ache in earnest.

"Papa!" Thea was nearly hopping with anger. "What does this mean? Last evening you promised I should not be forced to wed against my will!"

"Perhaps that promise should be retracted in light of your hoydenish, nay, vixenish behavior, Thea. How could you be so discourteous to a guest in our home?"

"Please forgive me, Papa, but I must have an answer. Have you promised my hand to Lord Hartingfield?"

"With your conduct, you will be fortunate indeed if anyone were to offer for you, my girl, much less someone so well set up as Lord Hartingfield." The earl ran a frustrated palm over his forehead. "Do you think you can attach a gentleman with such ungovernable demeanor?"

"Do you imply that he failed to offer for me?" Her voice was hallow with trepidation. Had she made a fool of herself once again?

"I am implying nothing, Thea. I've sent a message to Emma Rawlings and her nurse to be ready to accompany you to London at noon today. You'll want to make ready as well. Lord Hartingfield graciously offered his escort, and I sincerely pity the man."

Chapter Six

"I'm afraid you'll have to travel ahead with Mack and the luggage, Hobbs." Hart heard the thumps of frenzied employment seeping through the thick walls of the stately home. His bedchamber now looked barren, as if the removal of his possessions had stripped it of its essence. Hobbs stood by his side, sealing the final trunk.

"You're not tryin' to tip me the wink, are you, my lord?" Suspicion sharpened Hobbs' face.

"No, I wish it were that simple." Hart cringed when he heard a particularly loud bang coming from the ceiling directly over head. "I will not be traveling alone." He walked over to the window to glance at the weather outside. It was a typically gray English day. Although the sun was visible, it struggled with overcast skies for supremacy and there was a decided nip in the air. Another boring day for travel.

"You mean—you can't mean the chit's agreed to be your wife? Not an earl's daughter."

"No." Hartingfield slashed at his thigh with leather riding gloves. "I am escorting her to London."

Hobbs looked at him in astonishment. "Ye won't be wedding her?"

"Last night I came within inches of cupid's bowstring, Hobbs. The minx wouldn't have me."

"No female in her right mind would turn you down."

"Lady Althea did." Hart studied his nails. "Perhaps you have the right of it. Mayhap her wits have gone begging. However, I fully intend that she
shall
be my wife."

Hart walked over to a chair and took a seat. "I'll escort her to Lady Prunella's and use the time in transit in an attempt to alter her decision."

Hobbs shot him a quizzical look. "Are you certain you won't be needing me?"

"Not this time," replied Hart with a glint of laughter in his eye. "We will be accompanied by her companion, so I won't require your service as duenna." More seriously, he added, "By tomorrow or the next day at latest, I hope to be in London. You may travel ahead without concern to assure my comfort when I arrive."

The luggage carriage left at noon. Thea had already bid farewell to Uncle Egbert as well as the staff at Steyne. With tear-filled eyes, she turned to her father.