The Dashing Miss Fairchild (7 page)

He raised his brows in question, but as the concert appeared to begin, he could say little more. “I shall be there tomorrow."

"Fine.” She subsided in her chair, wishing, for some absurd reason, that she might dare move her arm a trifle so that it rested against his. She was far too conscious of him being next to her. This silliness must stop at once. It would not do to become enamored of a man who would in all likelihood sail off to Jamaica again, leaving her on the shores of England.

He shifted. Clare held her breath as his coat sleeve brushed her arm just where the shawl left her silk gown exposed. She could feel warmth and sense the firm texture of the excellent coat he displayed to such advantage, right through the thin silk of her gown. He must have patronized either Weston or Stultz while in London, for the fit was too perfect to result from the attention of a lesser tailor. In the confines of the room, she could faintly detect a spicy scent she had noticed before when near him. No doubt something from the Indies. Exotic and provoking. Like him.

The audience clapped, and Clare wondered what had happened to bring that about.

"I believe that was well done,” commented Mr. Talbot. He gestured to the printed program in his hand. “The next piece is a favorite of mine."

Startled, Clare realized with chagrin that she had totally missed the first offering of the evening. Resolved to pay attention to the next piece, especially since it was one Mr. Talbot recommended, she strained to listen with better awareness. Besides, it seemed that her nearness affected him not in the least.

Following the conclusion of the music, Clare was able to applaud with far greater enthusiasm, for she had actually heard it. She was impressed, as well. “Bath has better entertainment than I suspected,” she said, turning to him. Others did such, and no one remarked. Surely it was permissible for a lady to offer a comment to the gentleman at her side?

His slow smile, lighting up those unusual eyes, did the strangest things to her heart. “I am so pleased you like it. There is a play to be presented this coming week that I believe you might enjoy. Would you and Miss Godwin join the? Perhaps Lady Kingsmill and Miss Oliver as well? And Lord Welby, too, of course?"

"Delightful,” Clare managed to say before her wits deserted her. “Simply delightful.'’ The next piece of music rescued her from making a total idiot of herself. Really, whatever possessed her? Her normal poise had completely deserted her.

Following the concert, Lady Kingsmill insisted they all repair to her house for a small, impromptu party. It was far too fine an evening to end it all just yet.

Venetia looked about to pout until Lord Welby beamed his affable gaze upon her, declaring her to be the prettiest thing he had seen in ages, reminding him much of his dear departed wife. Unable to resist such lovely words, she immediately urged Clare to join the group at Lady Kingsmill's.

Thus it was that Clare found herself sitting by Venetia while Mr. Talbot and Susan sat across from them in the hackney for the jaunt across town. Lord Welby and Lady Kingsmill had each taken a chair to the house at Laura Place. The older lady stated she found the chairs got places faster in this congested little town with its streets that went up and down and curved everywhere.

Once established in Lady Kingsmill's drawing room, Mr. Talbot drew Clare to one side. “What is this you have received? News of value?"

Lord Welby interrupted them to offer, “I have daily checked the papers at Duffields Library, and there has been nary a word about a missing child in any one of them."

Admirably concealing her vexation at the intrusion of the kindly gentleman, who after all wished only to help, Clare nodded sagely. “Most strange,” she replied.

"The letters,” prompted Mr. Talbot. His eyes had taken on a green glitter to them that Clare found challenging.

"Well, my sister agreed that the girl, Jane, did indeed marry the Earl of Millsham. They were living at Millsham Hall until her husband died in a hunting accident. My sister did not know where the widow lived now."

"Hardly a thing to force her to abandon a child in your coach, however.'’ The glitter in the green eyes dimmed, and Clare had the satisfaction of suspecting that he also had been annoyed when Lord Welby had joined them.

"Unless there were mitigating factors. But there are other letters to consider.'’ She tossed him a defiant look, then turned away to speak to Venetia.

The housekeeper entered with a tray of delectable cakes and the inevitable macaroons for Lord Welby. He announced he preferred coffee to any other drink, and the group settled down to conversation and sweets.

Due to the general conversation and Clare's perverse desire that Mr. Talbot be forced to call upon her on the morrow to obtain the rest of the information, the subject was not approached again that evening. He made no effort on that score either, leading Clare to wonder if he were merely bored, or wished to see her in private.

"I thought the concert last night at the Octagon quite fine,'’ Venetia said while marching up the stairs the next morning. “Indeed, were it not for those tiresome tabbies who do their best to make our life uncomfortable, our time in Bath should prove most interesting.” Venetia flounced into the drawing room after a rather breathless trip up to the first floor. She had forgone breakfast in her room to join Clare for the morning meal. She seemed bent on keeping Clare company this morning for some reason.

"Lord Welby is such a dear man. He made quite a point of noticing us, along with Lady Kingsmill. Together I feel they did much to allay the nasty little gossips. It was a fortunate moment when we encountered Susan Oliver on Gay Street. She has proved to be a dear, kind friend.” Clare followed Venetia into the drawing room, her energy undiminished from the exertion of the climb up the stairs.

"Do you intend to discuss the matter of little William with Mr. Talbot today?'’ Venetia plumped herself on the nearest chair as though exhausted. She languidly fanned herself to cool her flushed cheeks while watching Clare with a careful gaze.

"Of course. If he comes, that is.” Clare paused by a window that overlooked the expanse of green that rolled down the hill across from the crescent. It was a serene view, one that never failed to please her.

"With your consequence?'’ Venetia blurted out. “I think not. He will come, and you may discuss whatever was in those letters you did not show to the. Then we may perhaps settle the matter of the baby once and for all,” she said with surprising complacency, considering how she had rambled on about the matter for days on end, ever since the afternoon when they had written letters regarding little William.

"We shall see. This seems to be more and more involved. Have you had replies to your letters?” Clare turned to face Venetia, a cautious look settling on her face. “A solution may not be that simple. What if we need to investigate?"

Before Venetia could sputter a reply to that outrageous remark, Bennison entered with the morning mail.

"I suppose you will retreat to read those letters. If I must reside with you and bear the arrows sent our way, the least you might do is to share the news with the.” Venetia assumed a petulant air, again waving her fan about her. That she was annoyed with her lack of mail was easily seen.

"My brother has done a bit of sleuthing on my behalf. It seems that the young Dowager Lady Millsham has utterly vanished!''

Further discussion had to wait until Mr. Talbot presented himself at the house in the Royal Crescent that afternoon. When Bennison ushered him up the stairs, Clare was nearly beside herself with impatience.

"At last you are here,” she declared far more passionately than was her wont. “I have such news for you.” Then remembering her manners, she added, “And have you had anything from your mail, sir?"

His grin was just a shade familiar as he slanted a look down at her once safely standing by her side near the window. He glanced to where Venetia watched them with her gimlet gaze and then turned to Clare. “It can wait, I believe. What have you heard?"

"Putting all the items together, I have discovered that Jane settled at Millsham Hall with her earl, but her time there was short, indeed. It seems her husband met with a tragic hunting accident, leaving her a widow at a very tender age. And now she has disappeared."

"No word about an infant?"

"Nothing,” Clare admitted reluctantly. “However, they were married within the established time to produce William."

Venetia erupted in a fit of coughing, and Clare crossed to ring for tea.

"Really, dear Clare, such a vulgar subject to be discussing. The matter of breeding should never be mentioned in polite society.” Venetia fanned herself with vigor surprising in one near fainting.

"But then, as friends, we need not subscribe to that, surely?” Mr. Talbot crossed to chat at some length with Venetia until he saw her ruffled feathers had subsided. He turned to Clare as though in question.

The entrance of the tea tray complete with items chosen to please the gentleman forestalled any further mention of the letters. Clare was beginning to lose hope of ever having a quiet talk with Mr. Talbot. Mercy, Venetia behaved as though a there conversation with him would ruin Clare forever! To tell the truth, Clare was becoming a bit impatient with Venetia's dragonlike attitude. She was in Bath as a companion, not a chaperon.

Tea and cakes were consumed with utmost politeness, although Clare hurried with hers and bolted her tea in an unseemly rush. How fortunate it was not quite scalding.

Tea over, Mr. Talbot rose from his chair, motioning to Clare. She followed him to the window where he pointed out a carriage being walked below. In a soft voice that did not carry beyond them, he said, “I feared something like this might happen, so I came prepared.” In a louder voice he added, “Will you do the the honor of a drive into the country, Miss Fairchild?"

Before Venetia could voice an objection, Clare beamed up a relieved smile at her rescuer. “Yes. I should like it above all things. Let the send for my pelisse and bonnet, and we shall discuss the contents of the letters while trotting past the rural landscape."

"Or perhaps a slow walk in the Sydney Gardens?” he murmured as she floated past him to ring for Priddy.

"Admirable, to be sure,” she said in reply, her eyes lighting up with her pleasure in such a simple thing.

Venetia objected quite as Clare had expected she would. Clare slipped into her favorite blue silk pelisse, then tied the ribands of her neat Victoria hat of straw turned up around the front, lined with pale blue satin with dainty ostrich feathers on the side. All the while Venetia rambled on about proprieties and how she thought Clare to be far more circumspect than to behave thus. Her glare at Mr. Talbot would have frosted a lesser man.

Picking at the triple fall of lace that cascaded over her full bosom, Venetia concluded, “I think it vastly unfair of you two to go off and leave the in suspense."

"But, if we told you everything, you could not in all honesty claim that you knew utterly nothing about it,” Clare replied. “You see, dear girl, we are protecting your reputation."

Clare bestowed a quick hug on her companion, then joined Mr. Talbot downstairs where he had hastily taken refuge on the pretext of ordering the carriage brought to the door.

Venetia paused a moment in the middle of the drawing room, then hurried to the window to stare down at the open phaeton with a puzzled expression on her face.

"It is a lovely day out,” Clare said with satisfaction. “The air yet has a hint of moisture in it, but it is not quite so sultry as yesterday. A drive will be most welcome."

Clare thought she heard Mr. Talbot murmur something about that not being the only reason, but couldn't be certain, as he was walking around to get in on the other side. The groom jumped up behind as the carriage pulled away from the house at a sharp clip. Clare didn't look up, but she was sure she felt Venetia's gaze upon her back as the carriage left the house.

Once the horse settled into a steady pace, Mr. Talbot turned to study his companion. She ostensibly took in the pretty countryside. But her properly gloved hands twisting about in her lap revealed a concern for more than the sight of a few daisies and a rather prosaic view of ripening fields.

"What conclusions have you reached, if any?"

Clare turned to face him, glad she had worn a bonnet with a short brim so her vision was unobstructed. “Would you think the utterly mad if I said I feel something is not right with this young Jane? Why should she completely disappear? I would like very much to visit Millsham Hall to see if the new earl can tell us anything."

Richard nodded, slowing the horse to a walk, then finally pulling off to a side lane where they might turn around if so desired. “I, too, have the sense that there is something havey-cavey here. My letters tell the the same thing as yours. My mother relates details of the wedding, and how happy the couple appeared. My brother wrote that Jane's husband was a splendid rider to the hounds, and that it seemed tragic that so excellent a man should make such a dim-witted fall."

Clare's eyes had been fastened on a small bird that was hopping about on the verge. At the conclusion of his words, she turned her gaze upon Mr. Talbot once again. “That settles it. I shall take my coach to Millsham Hall."

"I believe I shall go with you, Miss Fairchild. While I have no doubt you could do admirably on your own, for you have an inquiring mind and good sense, there are times a man is useful."

Clare tore her gaze from his, then looked back at him again to see if he was serious. “Please do not feel obliged to accompany the. I would not for anything in the world put you to a deal of trouble."

"I am already involved. I find my curiosity has grown. I would like to see the baby reunited with his mother.” His eyes seemed to add a message that Clare wanted desperately to believe. But it was far too soon for such, and she had been raised to more propriety than she had displayed as of late.

"Yes,” replied Clare softly. “She must miss him dreadfully."