The Dashing Miss Fairchild (27 page)

"He refused to pay off the family debts, or so I heard,” Lady Millsham offered hesitantly. “The housekeeper wrote to Mrs. Dow about the scandalous lack of family feeling."

Knowing it was unusual for servants to write to one another, Clare raised her brows.

Lady Millsham answered, “He franked her letter. I rather suspect he hoped to see if the housekeeper would find anyone who knew of my whereabouts. Naturally, Mrs. Dow never mentioned me."

Priddy entered with a glass of milky liquid. Clare grimaced, knowing full well what she held.

"A distillation of willow bark, Miss Clare. It will help your aches and pains."

"I do not have such,” Clare replied in a gentle tone, only to give lie to her words, wincing at her sudden movement when she warded off the glass.

"Aha,” Priddy exclaimed, pouncing on her mistress with glass in hand.

Knowing it futile to put it off, Clare drank the nasty stuff, then grimaced at Lady Millsham. “They ought to make it into tablets or pastilles. I shouldn't mind it half so much then. Not that I am required to take it that often."

They chatted about aches and remedies, although each wore an abstracted expression, indicating her mind strayed elsewhere.

Footsteps bounding up the stairs brought both heads around in amazement.

"Mr. Talbot!” Lady Millsham exclaimed in dismay.

"Yes, Richard, whatever is the matter? You look positively wild,” Clare added, half rising from the sofa.

He swiftly crossed to touch her shoulder, pressing her ever so gently downward. Plumping himself on a chair without being asked, a behavior quite unlike his normal good manners, he shook his head.

"When I arrived at the jail, I found the fellow dead!"

The women gasped, Clare demanding to know, “But how?"

He shrugged. “No one seemed to have the faintest idea. ‘Tis not so unusual, for a man to die in jail, for the place is an unspeakable horror. But seems dashed odd for this particular man to go aloft when he is the only witness we know about."

"I wonder where Venetia went?"

This non sequitur caught the attention of Lady Millsham. “Poor woman. Life can be very hard for a woman alone."

"For you, perhaps,” Mr. Talbot said. “I venture to say that Miss Godwin shall find her feet. Mark my words. There is more to that woman than you know."

"Mr. Talbot, you cannot tantalize us like that, and not reveal the whole,” Clare chided.

"In due time” was his only reply.

"Did you know,” retorted Clare, seeking to redirect the subject, “that the present earl is none other than Basil Kibbler? I thought his face looked familiar, although he was not in my circle, you understand. I cannot recall seeing much of him this past year, even at a distance."

Mr. Talbot nodded. “I knew his name. But for all I knew, his finances had improved the years I was gone. I gather they had not?"

"Precisely,” Clare murmured.

"That family lived in Queer Street if my memory serves me right. Not worth a bean,” he added in reflection.

"He was ever hanging out for an heiress. My brother forbade me to have anything to do with him. Which I suspect did not endear me in the least."

"Others are dished up, and they don't commit murder."

"They do not call arsenic ‘inheritance powder’ for no reason, Richard,” Clare reminded him. “I would like to challenge the man, force him to leave the country. Something. Lady Millsham cannot continue to live in terror for her life. And how is little William to grow up with the threat of death hanging over his head? Everyone will be suspect; the child cannot have a normal life."

"We have no proof, especially with our only witness dead.''

"Hm. What if another witness appeared?"

He straightened up, staring at her with questioning eyes.

It was not easy to tear her gaze from the depths of malachite, but she managed. “Oh, we do not have one,” she confessed. “But
he
does not know that. I suggest we tell Mrs. Robottom, and permit her to direct the information in the proper channel."

"What then?"

"Then we confront him."

"My dear girl, you have to have a better plan than that!"

"Give me time. I shall think of something."

Clare thought she heard him mutter words to the effect that he feared just such. They were lost with the arrival of Bennison closely followed by Miss Oliver and Lord Adrian Berney. He announced them, then at Clare's nod took the tea tray to replenish it.

"What's this? Are you not well, Miss Fairchild?” Miss Oliver cried in alarm.

"A small matter of a grazed arm,” Clare replied, bestowing a warning glance at Richard and Lady Millsham. “My dear friends fuss over me far too much, not to mention Priddy. She is a dragon of the highest order.” Clare smiled with affection for her maid.

"I seem to recall similar circumstances when you were not quite so sanguine about a grazed arm,” Richard murmured as he adjusted one of her cushions.

"Odious man,” she whispered. “There is scant resemblance. My wound is nothing so deep or painful."

"I suspect you are being exceptionally brave. If I see one indication you are less than you ought to be, I shall cart you off to bed at once."

Clare's cheeks flamed at the very image that popped into her mind from his words. “Wicked man,” she shot back in return, then realized he was chuckling at her. She had been better to hold her tongue. His actual words carried no impropriety in them; it was her own naughty thoughts that led her unbidden to seductive fantasy.

Miss Oliver turned from chatting with Lady Millsham to direct her gaze to Clare. “I do not suppose you will explain about this latest episode in your life. I suspect there is more involved than a simple graze."

Clare firmed her lips. “Do you know I was ever considered the epitome of propriety for most of my life? At least until I came to Bath."

A provocative grin crept over Richard Talbot's face. “I cannot imagine where they acquired such an odd notion. Not that you are not, ah, interesting, dear girl."

Susan Oliver glanced at Mr. Talbot, then transferred her gaze to Clare Fairchild, taking note of pinkened cheeks, sparkling eyes.

"I expect you spoke to the odious earl last night. May we be of help?"

"Actually, you could,” Clare reflected, hoping the fire in her cheeks would quickly subside. “Let it be known, in an underhand sort of way, that we have a witness to the murder of the sixth earl. I want to see what happens."

"You are too curious for your own good, Miss Fairchild,” Mr. Talbot protested, his disapproval ringing in his words.

"Oh, pooh,'’ Clare said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “We must make an attempt. I refuse to lose another bonnet to the cause."

Her unguarded words brought a horrified exclamation from Lady Millsham, which must needs be explained. While the ladies chattered, Clare fervently trying to pass off the events as mere trifles, the gentlemen wandered over to the window looking out on the green.

Lord Adrian tugged at his chin, then half turned to Mr. Talbot. “It would seem you have had quite a series of adventures with Miss Fairchild."

"True.” The tone did not invite further questioning.

"You appear to run tame in her house.'’ The glimmer of questioning continued, subtle, yet unmistakable.

"It might seem that way,” Richard agreed tightly.

"Don't cut up stiff with me,” Lord Adrian admonished. “It may have been remarked that you seem to be in each other's pockets these past days, but that does not mean you must heed the tabbies as far as I am concerned. Dash it all, man, no point in getting leg-shackled unless there is good reason. If your heart is truly caught, or you need the blunt—which I daresay you don't, that might do."

A grim look flickered on Richard's face before he turned to the man at his side. “Gossiping, are they?"

"Lady Kingsmill suggested I put a flea in your ear as to what is drifting about town. When an oh-so-proper lady is seen frequenting the side of an eligible bachelor, tongues are bound to wag."

"I was afraid the quidnuncs would have at us. In due time we shall put it all to rest."

"Indeed."

Lord Adrian appeared on the verge of inquiring if he might wish Mr. Talbot happy, then seemed to think better of it.

When Miss Oliver and Lord Adrian left, Mr. Talbot went along with them, frustrating Clare in her desire to plan what they were to do next. That man would answer for his highhandedness. She'd see to that.

It was not until the next day that he returned, entering the study where Clare was curled up in the most comfortable chair with a book. Thin smoke spiraled up from the small fire in the grate. A neighbor's cat had been enticed to pay a call and sat in Clare's lap, cosseted with tidbits.

"Mr. Talbot."

"I thought I had been elevated to Richard?” He sauntered across the room, leaving the door open behind him so Bennison might know his mistress was being treated in a proper manner.

"That was before you left the house without telling me when we are to see the bogus earl. Playing tricks?"

"Never.'’ He shook his head, then dropped down on a chair near where she reposed. He reached out to stroke the cat. Clare watched his hands, strong yet gentle, as they caressed the animal, and she envied the cat not a little.

"So? I can be ready in a trice."

"You are not going along.” He braced himself for a furious reaction, and he was not disappointed. Clare jumped to her feet, dumping the visiting cat in his lap.

She bared her arm, blazing a flaming look at Richard. “My wound is well to being healed. There is no reason, other than that you are old-womanish about my going with you, for me not to be there. You will not leave this house without me at your side."

"You are the most exasperating female it has ever been my misfortune to work with.” He set the animal aside, then rose to face her. His hands came up to grasp her shoulders. “How anyone in his right mind could think you a
proper
miss is beyond me! When I am near you,
my
thoughts certainly are most improper."

She struggled to free herself, then caught a sparkle of green mischief in his eyes. Suddenly quiescent in his hands, she tilted her head, studying his face with knowing eyes. He was finding all this quite as irresistible as she!

"I say we ought to...” she lowered her lashes, giving him a most deliberately provocative smile. At least she hoped it was such. She hadn't much experience at this sort of flirting. It was dashed difficult when one had spent most of one's life doing the virtuous.

"Yes?” His hands tightened, drawing her closer.

"I say we ought to go see the earl. The sooner we close this matter, the better.” Clare fluttered her lashes a trifle, just enough without appearing blatant. Then, deciding to test his intentions, she added, “My sister writes she desires my company."

He gave her a shake, “Visiting, indeed."

It was impossible to know what was going on in his head. Clare wished she knew. However, it was a heady experience to flirt with him like this, and she might as well enjoy herself. “Can it make any difference to you if I leave to stay with Sarah?"

"None,” he admitted cheerfully.

Her mouth dropped open a trifle, and her eyes grew wide with dismay. “None?” All of her assumed wiles dropped away at his desertion.

"No. I fully intend to be there with you, you see."

"Indeed?” Turning reluctantly from this intriguing thought, she said, “When do we see the earl? For I suddenly perceive you are merely attempting to draw me from the topic by enticing the in another direction entirely."

He inched her closer. “And could I? Entice you, that is?"

He was not to have the answer to that important question, for at that very moment the soft patter of steps on the stairs came quite distinctly through the open door.

"Drat and blast,'’ he muttered, dropping a hasty kiss on that slightly open mouth while promising himself to do a more thorough job of it later on. “I see Bennison is protecting you by informing Lady Millsham that you have company who is likely to cause you a blush."

"Really? How fascinating.” Her eyes abruptly narrowed as she observed his uncomfortable expression. “Why that expression? Have you heard something I ought to know?"

"Good day, Mr. Talbot,” Lady Millsham hesitantly said, her timid voice barely reaching him in his preoccupation. “How charming to see a cat in here. I am quite lost without my Muffin.'’ She glided silently to scoop up the tabby cat, stroking it until it smiled with bliss.

"I have never seen a cat smile before,” Clare observed before rounding on Richard again.

He braced himself for her onslaught. He was utterly wrong.

"Mr. Talbot has graciously agreed to escort me to see the earl, Jane.” Clare sidled up to him, entwining her arm in his in a manner totally unlike her usual forthright way. Then she pinched him. “Is that not correct, Richard?"

He knew when to yield. “Of course. I would not dream of pursuing this without her at my side."

"Good,” Lady Millsham replied softly. “The tattlers have it that you are a pair, one way or another. You may as well stir things up a bit."

Clare dropped her hold on his arm, stepping from his side as though he were too hot a fire. “I see.” Now she knew why he had not wanted to be seen with her. It would exert pressure on him, forcing him to ask for her hand, whether he wished it or not.

"I doubt it,” he countered. “We shall have to sort this out later. Excuse us if we make our way to Queens Square. We have urgent business.'’ He added for Lady Millsham's benefit, “My man, Timms, will be close at hand, dear lady."

"Good,” she repeated. “I trust you to see to everything. You remind me a little of my Peter.” Her eyes misted over, and Richard nudged Clare from the room.

"All right, little termagant. Fetch your pelisse and we shall be on our way."

"Are you certain?” Clare could not have been more torn. She wanted to confront the earl. Yet if anyone saw her with Richard, it would tighten the screws on his freedom. How frustrating to desire him, yet feel constrained to allow him breathing space.

"I had not thought you a coward, Miss Fairchild,” he taunted.