A Season for the Heart (23 page)

Isabelle had disregarded everything except the Earl’s question. She was thinking hard, and after a moment she said to Lord Austell, “Pommy had lost her heart to someone, I am sure of it. But I cannot recall her mentioning the man’s name. I suppose it could have been Mr. Corcran.”

“Then in that case,” said the Earl heavily, “we need not interfere.”

“The devil we won’t!” snapped Colonel Rand. “I have no intention of permitting my niece to compromise herself with some fortune-hunting rascal who lures her away from Lady Masterson’s care with lying letters purporting to come from Miss Boggs! Where is this scoundrel’s lodging?”

“He will not be there,” said the Earl. “Chelm said there was baggage upon the coach in which they drove away.”

His people have a place somewhere in the country,” began Gareth. “I’m sure I’ve heard him mention it. Shropshire or Sussex . . . wait, it’s called Corcran Place and it’s in—in—”

“Well,
remember!
” commanded the Earl more harshly than he had ever before addressed his heir.

“
Surrey!
That’s it!” announce Gareth with considerable satisfaction. “I was sure I should get it!”

The Earl marshaled his forces. “Rand, I shall want you with me. You are the girl’s closest relative, and can make our position unassailable. Gareth, go at once to Portman Square and acquaint your mother with the details of our plan—”

“But I don’t know them!” protested Gareth.

“God give me strength,” groaned the Earl.

The colonel, who, through his years in the army, was more used to dealing with young beef-brains than was Lord Austell, took smooth charge.

“Masterson!”

“Yes?” asked Gareth, and then catching the colonel’s eye, “sir?”

“First. You will inform Her Ladyship that Austell and I have gone after Miss Pommy. Second. Miss Pommy is with Mr. Alan Corcran. Third. We shall have my niece back to Portman Square this evening. Is that clear?”

Gareth frowned as he mentally rehearsed the information. A smile broke over his handsome features. “Oh, yes! But are you sure—?”

“That is our problem, sir, not yours,” Colonel Rand told him firmly. “Go now. Do you know the way from here? Walk back with Chelm. We shall need the Earl’s carriage.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gareth, smiled at his uncle, bowed gracefully over Isabelle’s hand, and made smartly for the door, following Chelm.

The Earl exhaled deeply and took his admiring gaze from the commanding officer. “Miss Isabelle, do not be alarmed. Gareth will be quite safe with Chelm. So will Pommy, for we shall find her. Have you received an invitation to Lady Masterson’s Ball?”

“Oh, yes!” Isabelle dimpled with pleased anticipation.

“Then you will see Gareth there, and can reassure yourself of his well-being. We must take our leave of you now, for Mr. Corcran has at least an hour’s start on us, and if we don’t discover his address soon—”

“Oh, I should think you could easily reach Dorking before dark,” interjected Isabelle.

“Dorking?” repeated the men in unison.

Isabelle smiled sweetly. “That is where Corcran Place is located. Alan often spoke of it,” she explained.

Once again in Lord Austell’s carriage, the two men stared at one another.

“I shall never be able to understand women,” confessed the colonel at last. “Why didn’t she mention it earlier, when Gareth was trying so hard to remember? She knew it all the time!”

“I suppose,” said the Earl, beginning to smile, “because nobody asked her. In any event, it’s saved us hours of fruitless search. Let us be grateful she mentioned it at all!”

They were soon bowling along smartly on the south road out of London, each man silently absorbed in his own plans.

Eighteen

Pommy became aware that the musty, old-fashioned coach in which she was riding was making its way out of London. The westering sun was ahead and on her right, so she assumed they were heading to the south. She began to wonder if she had not been stupid to place herself quite so trustfully in the power of the queer old man. She wished she had kept Isabelle’s letter in her hand; she might have learned something from a more careful perusal of it. She was becoming disgusted with her lack of quick-wittedness, and even a little apprehensive as to her destination, when the coach creaked to a halt beside a small inn nearly covered with green vines. The coachman swung down and came quickly around to open the door for her. She found herself staring into the smiling face of Alan Corcran.

Instead of the pleased recognition which the young man obviously expected, Pommy regarded him as though she would like to do him an injury. Her first words confirmed this.

“Alan Corcran! How dare you play off your tricks and frighten me so! I could strike you! What have you done with Isabelle?”

Considerably taken aback, Alan replied, “I have done nothing with her. I would suppose she is at her home, where she may stay, for all of me.” He scowled at her. “I had thought you would be excessively grateful to me!”

“
Grateful
?” echoed Pommy in accents of scorn. “I am hungry, exhausted by a long drive in this miserable excuse for a carriage, half out of my mind with anxiety over Isabelle’s fate—and you say I should be grateful? I think you must be the greatest blockhead in nature!”

Angry color rose in Alan’s face. “And this is the thanks I am to receive for saving your honor! I might have expected it! My father was right.”

“Your father? What has he to say to this? Did he advise you against this ridiculous rig you are running? You would have been wiser to have heeded him.”

“My father,” said Alan coldly, “is forever reading to Mama and me from his favorite poets. It is one reason I came to London. This situation, however, puts me strongly in mind of his favorite couplet:

“Of all the plagues with which the world is cursed,

Of every ill, a woman is the worst!”

“Your mama is to be pitied,” said Pommy repressively.

They kept glaring at one another until Todd, leaning out from the coachman’s seat, said crossly, “I told you how it would be, Master Alan. Now do go inside and order some food, and I’ll drive Miss back to London before her fine friends have the Runners after us!”

Pommy thrust the door open wider, nearly knocking Alan down. As he staggered away from the coach, she got out herself and stood facing him.

“You shall not fob me off with this Machiavellian servant of yours,
Master
Alan! I am starving. Order food for me, too, and then you may hire a carriage to take me back to Portman Square.”

“Language!” muttered the scandalized Todd, misliking the sound of “Machiavellian.” “In my day, well-brought-up young misses did not use such terms—”

“In
your
day, it is to be hoped that well-brought-up young misses were not raped from their homes and protectors by hardened rakehells, nor deceived by lying appeals for help purporting to come from their friends!”

Todd, who was now thoroughly alarmed by the word “rape” uttered in a loud clear voice in a public place, cast a piteous look at his young master, who had, after all, landed the two of them in this bumble-broth. “Oh, lordie me, what’s to do, Master Alan?”

Put somewhat on his mettle by the abject surrender of his crusty henchman, Alan tried to retrieve the situation.

“Come, Pommy, this is the veriest fustian, and you know it,” he offered coaxingly. “You will realize, if you will pause to give it a moment’s reflection, that I thought I was saving you from great embarrassment at Lady Masterson’s Ball tonight. My intention was to take you to my mother’s home, where you might safely reside until your future had been secured—”

“Are you telling me that your own mama is privy to this outrageous abduction?”

Alan had the grace to look apologetic. “Well, I have not had time to consult her, in actual fact, but,” catching sight of Pommy’s glare of disgust, “but I
know
she would never reject anyone I brought to her. As boys, my brother and I were forever bringing home stray puppies and kittens—”

It did not take Todd’s groan of exasperation to tell Alan he had not mended matters. “This is the outside of enough!” raged Pommy. “Stray puppies, is it? You have more than likely ruined my reputation, lost me my position, and made it ineligible for any decent person to speak to me—and you dare to aver that you thought you were saving me from embarrassment?”

By this time, the small group of servants and rustic idlers who had been attracted by the sounds of a heated altercation was beginning to take sides and express either supportive or opposing views. There were some pretty severe looks cast at the young Blade in the dandified raiment, as well as a disapproving glance or two at the young lady who was raising her voice against the gentleman. In the face of this concerted interest, the combatants felt it would be more dignified to continue their argument under more private circumstances, and repaired to the inn dining room in a state of armed truce.

Alan at once ordered a substantial meal to be served in some private room with all speed, since he and his party were too hungry to wait. Their host regretted that he had no private rooms such as young smarts from London might be accustomed to, but the public dining room being empty at the moment, as any fool could plainly see, since it was past four o’clock, and all normal persons had already dined, the public dining room, he repeated, gathering the thread of his somewhat discursive speech, should suffice their needs if they would be good enough to sit down to it.

Alan, resenting the implied slurs upon himself which he was sure he discerned in the rambling oration, was about to carry the battle further when Todd and Pommy together pulled him down into a chair at the table, and Pommy said crisply, “Serve the meal, Host!”

Alan rattled back gamely, saying he was well aware what o’clock it was, since he was famished to the point of tipping somebody a doubler if he didn’t get him mutton pretty promptly.

“Oh, don’t be such a gudgeon,” snapped Pommy. “The man’s gone to the kitchen, and can’t hear you, which is just as well, for we’d never have gotten anything to eat if you’d kept on haranguing him!”

Naturally this remark did not endear her to Alan, who subsided into a fuming silence, nor to Todd, who was heard to mutter something about women being seen but not heard. When the meal was served, it was quite good, and the three travelers ate in silence. Pommy made the first move toward a renewal of hostilities.

“Is it true, as I suspect, that Isabelle knew nothing of this rig you are running?”

“I had only hope to save you from shame,” retorted Alan bitterly.

“There may be something to your fears,” Pommy was forced to concede. “I have no idea what amiable folly Her Ladyship has the intention of committing tonight. I am sure it has something to do with me, for she has urged me repeatedly to trust her.”

“Unnerving,” agreed Alan, a little less morosely.

“But how can I?” continued the girl. “I do not at all understand persons of her order, having met none of them until just lately. The nobility seems to be capable of any lunacy!”

“What did you think she might do?” asked Alan with rising interest.

“Well, for a time I believed she might be trying to arrange a marriage between myself and Gareth, but that is quite ineligible on at least two counts.”

“What are they?” Alan was now completely absorbed in the drama.

“For one, Gareth is smitten with Isabella.”

“No!” breathed Alan. “He would bore most women out of their wits!”

“Yes, well, they find each other all that is delightful, and I am persuaded they would go on very well together. The second objection to the connection is that I have none of the qualities nor the attributes which would make me a suitable
parti
for such a nobleman.”

“I don’t see that—” Alan began to protest, but Pommy raised a hand.

“We are dealing honestly now with one another, Alan, since I may need to beg the assistance of a small loan from you before we part—to be repaid with interest, of course.”

“It is no more than I owe you,” admitted Alan handsomely, “after snatching you away from your home in that way.”

“Thank you,” said Pommy. “Now as to my unsuitability for marriage to a nobleman. I am the daughter of a third son—”

“That’s worse than me,” said Alan feelingly.

“I have no portion, nor hope of any. I have a classical education, but that can be counted as a drawback rather than an asset in this case.”

“I am afraid you are right,” agreed Alan uncomfortably.

“My name, while respectable, is far from impressive, and the head of my family, Uncle Charles Rand, is a country squire with no pretensions to gentility. Besides, he and Aunt Henga have cast me off.”

“By Jove, you are in the devil of a pucker, are you not?” sympathized Alan. “I wish I could help you, truly!”

While Todd was muttering irritably that they’d best put Missy in the coach and send her back to London, since he much doubted Master Alan’s people would want to be flummoxed with that sort of row, Pommy recalled an earlier scheme.