Maggie MacKeever (10 page)

“You will excuse me, Grandmother?” he asked politely. “While I attend to this?”

“But of course,” Isolda replied, struggling with laughter. Averil dragged Felicity into the hallway and out of the older woman’s hearing.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded. Felicity trembled convincingly.

“It cannot be over between us, Averil!” she protested. “Do not treat me so!”

Loveday, descending the stair, thought it diplomatic to remove herself from the scene, and made her way to the kitchens. Great confusion greeted her there. The cook stood on the table, shrieking; the maids were both hysterical; Mrs. Snugglebutt seemed to be trying to instill order; and Samson looked on, grinning wickedly. As Loveday watched, he sidled up to Prudence and pinched her.

“Chucklehead!” roared his enraged spouse, as she hurled him out the door.

“Whatever is the matter?” Loveday inquired, as she ventured further into the room.

“Oh, miss!” Prudence wrung her hands. “There’s a demon loose in the larder. Cook saw it!”

“Draggletail!” shouted Mrs. Snugglebutt, goaded beyond endurance, and boxed the girl’s ears. Loveday cautiously approached the larder, and took a firm grip on the door.

“No!” cried Prudence. “It’ll get you for sure, miss! Don’t open that door!”

Loveday had already done so. Covered with flour, Verdelet indignantly stalked from his temporary prison. His departure was speeded by the cook, who chased him with a broom. Amused by the proceedings, Loveday allowed Mrs. Snugglebutt to coax her with a cup of tea, and therefore missed Jasper Assheton’s arrival.

Tarbath was absent from his post, having fled to the cellars for a bracing drink at the first sounds of discord. Averil, in the process of evicting Felicity forcibly from his home, opened the door to find the visitor outside, one hand raised to the knocker.

“Excuse me,” Averil said politely, as he manhandled Felicity down the steps. “As for you, my fair tormentor, if you show your face here again, I’ll wring your neck!” Felicity fled, wondering why Theo’s plans had gone so far astray. It occurred to her that perhaps he’d meant for her to be so abominably treated, and she went to meet him with murder in mind.

“Come in, Assheton.” Averil ignored the man’s raised eyebrow and amused expression and led him into the study. “To what happy accident do we owe so unexpected a visit? Will you join me in a glass?”

“Of course,” replied Jasper. “It’s a devilish long ride out here.”

“You’ve come in inquire about your
fianc
é
e,
I imagine,” Averil said casually, watching Jasper carefully for signs of discomfiture. His visitor didn’t even blink.

“My betrothed? Ah, yes.” Jasper met Averil’s inquiring look with a bland one of his own. “She’s told you, then?”

Averil uttered a sharp, unamused laugh. “She has, indeed. I must admit to curiosity: why could her father not bring himself to approve of the match?”

“Why, because he knew I would not frank him.” Jasper smiled lazily. “Lord Fairchild’s gambling debts are staggering, and the man has wretched luck at cards. I do not propose to provide him with an allowance. The notion of my future father-in-law, who you must admit is monstrously improvident, dogging my every footstep is decidedly repugnant.”

Averil was interested. “Surely he isn’t such a fool as to expect you to provide for him. The man’s forever under a cloud.”

Jasper shrugged.  “I fear that Harry Fairchild labored under such a delusion, and fancied that I would be pleased to restore his credit for him. He considers me rich as Croesus, and was positively overjoyed to see me fixing my interest with his daughter.”

“But you fell out of favor?”

“His attitude rapidly reversed itself when he discovered I didn’t mean to line his pockets with my funds. He was, in a word, thunderstruck! Ever were I tempted to settle the man’s debts, I know where such a course must lead.”

“Indeed! The way Fairchild squanders his means, you’d find yourself with mountainous liabilities in no time.”

“I am glad,” murmured Jasper, “that you share my sentiments on this score. It is now of great concern to me to insure that Loveday’s fortune remains safe. She has no penchant for gambling, nor has she her father’s tendency to financial imprudence, but I do not doubt that Fairchild will attempt to come round her, for she will be a considerable heiress.”

“I see,” said Averil, who did not. “But the man’s fled the country, and there’s no one to now interfere with your plans.”

“Correct,” replied Jasper, who was vastly enjoying this exchange. “My
fiancée
and I will go on much more prosperously without him.”

Averil suspected that he had met his match, and was grateful for the knocking at the door that interrupted them. “Enter!”

“Averil,” Loveday said, entering the room, “I want to thank you-” She broke off when she saw the other occupant of the room. “Jasper!”

“I came as quickly as I had your note, my dear.” He rose from his chair and crossed the room to bring her hands to his lips and kiss them. “What’s this? You look quite exhausted.”

“She shouldn’t be out of bed,” Averil commented.

“I admit,” Jasper remarked, “that I quite agree with you. I plan to see that she spends much of her time there—once we’re wed, of course.” Loveday blushed furiously, and he smiled.

“I wonder that you speak so plainly.” Averil was irritated. He’d nourished similar notions himself.

“Ah, we have known each other forever, you see,” Jasper explained.

“Jasper,” Loveday interrupted, afraid of the turn the conversation was taking, “someone tried to kill me.” Instead of reacting with proper concern, Jasper merely regarded her quizzically.

“It’s true, Assheton. I dressed the wound myself.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then I am in your debt.”

Averil didn’t relish the prospect of informing the duchess that her hopes seemed doomed to disappointment. “I will leave you alone,” he said abruptly. He “You’ll have much to discuss.”

“Ah, yes,” murmured Jasper. “Our wedding plans.” Averil closed the door behind him quietly.

Loveday surveyed her old friend with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation. It was, perhaps, best that matters had arranged themselves as they had, for she was spared explanations, and Jasper was unpredictable.

Jasper Assheton, Viscount Craven, was a tall, muscular man, with light brown hair, bright green eyes, and an indolent grace. He dressed plainly but elegantly, and no one could doubt that his tailor was the best. He was in great demand by hostesses, for not only was he considered one of London’s most eligible bachelors, but he also possessed great charm of manner. Jasper’s aristocratic features were saved from arrogance only by the ever-present twinkle in his eyes, and the smile that had caused many a maidenly heart to flutter and skip.

“Well, my love?” He turned the full force of that smile on Loveday who, despite their long acquaintance, was far from immune. “We scraped through that one fairly well, did we not?”

“Oh, Jasper, I am so sorry! Isolda has hatched the most impossible scheme; she wants me to marry the Duke of Chesshire, and I had to put her off. Please do not be angry with me!”

“It sounds like a good match,” Jasper commented. “Why are you so against it? You did not seem to have taken him in dislike.”

“We would not suit.”

“My dear girl, you’ve said that of all your beaux! You’re devilish hard to please—or are you determined to remain safely unwed?”

“No.” Loveday inspected her hands, “but I daresay I shall find myself on the shelf, all the same. Oh, Jasper, whatever am I to do? This is the most wretched coil, and I must tell you that Lady Laurent knows of the betrothal. Isolda told her.”

Jasper threw back his head and laughed. “And how did Charmain take the news?”

“She was furious,” Loveday replied, relieved by his reaction. “Jasper, I was ready to sink! She asked me why you hadn’t told her.”

“And well she might, for she was convinced that I would make her an offer. You’ve rescued me from an abominable fix, and I see nothing for it but to help you in this deplorable deception of yours.”

“Jasper!” Loveday squealed, and threw her arms around him. To her surprise, she found herself held fast, and looking up into a pair of twinkling green eyes.

“We have much to talk about,” he said. “You must fill me in on all the details. But first, I demand payment for my part in this, in advance.”

Loveday had been kissed before, but Jasper’s only salutations had been chaste pecks on the cheek. She suddenly realized that it wasn’t only his charm of manner that made his mistresses so loathe to leave him. The pain in her side throbbed madly, but she paid it no heed.

“Heavens!” she said when he finally released her, and sank promptly into the nearest chair.

“Green girls shouldn’t play with fire,” commented Jasper, with every ounce of his usual self-possession admirably intact. “We’re supposedly betrothed, and it would be considered odd if we weren’t occasionally discovered in a fervent embrace, especially considering our respective reputations, my love.” He grinned at her. “Faith, I believe I’m going to enjoy this! You’re a comfortable little armful, Loveday.”

“So I’ve been told,” Loveday replied smugly. “But, Jasper, do be serious. Someone really is trying to kill me.”

“Vere, no doubt. You’d try the patience of a saint, my darling. No, don’t rip up at me! I met Jem on the way here, and he told me what’s been happening.” Loveday realized that Jem must be worried indeed to confide in Jasper. “That stripling likes me little, I think.”

Loveday shrugged, having no time to waste on what she considered Jem’s strange whims. “He doesn’t know about last night, for I’ve had no chance to tell him.”

Jasper listened quietly as Loveday related her experiences of the night before; his calm expression varied none at all, but a sharp-eyed observer might have noticed a certain grimness in the cast of his mouth.

“Jasper?” Loveday said, with a queer little catch in her voice, “I’m frightened. And even if I left now, what’s to stop him from coming after me?”

“Him?”

“It could be anyone. I think it was a man last night, but I’m not sure.”

Jasper was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “The first thing we’re going to do is persuade the duchess to invite me to stay here. We’d be well-chaperoned, after all. I think you’ll be fairly safe now; his failure last night may have frightened him.” If anything, it would make the killer more desperate, but Jasper had no intention of telling Loveday so. She was already looking rather pale. “Tell me something, you silly child. Why did you not go to my father? He would have been delighted, and so would Phyllida, though she’d probably have tried to find you a husband.”

“That’s just it,” Loveday replied. “That’s why I didn’t go.”

“You can’t have been afraid of my sister’s matchmaking schemes! She’s wretchedly inept, you know.” Loveday remained silent, and he looked at her with sudden comprehension. “Devil a bit! You were afraid she’d think you were throwing your hat in the ring.”

Loveday nodded. “And my father would be sorely grieved if it wasn’t so. Fair enough,” said Jasper. “I think I’d be wise to tell him of this charade of ours, lest he hear of it from other sources.” Loveday nodded again.

Isolda entered the room, then, curious to see the unexpected visitor. It did not take Jasper long to beguile her into issuing him an invitation, though Loveday suspected that Isolda had reasons of her own for doing so. Jasper took his leave of them, to collect his belongings and his valet from the inn and to compose a letter to his aging parent.

“You’re looking devilish pale, my love,” he murmured, as he kissed Loveday’s hand yet another time. “Do get some rest.”

Loveday quickly departed, glad to remove herself from the range of Isolda’s inevitable questions. She wished that the old duchess’s eyesight wasn’t quite so keen. Loveday wasn’t destined to rest just then, however; she stepped into the garden to compose herself and found Averil there.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, coming to take her arm. “I was unforgivably rude this afternoon.”

Loveday chuckled. “Never mind, I saw her.”

 Averil looked blank. “You saw her?”

Loveday nodded. “I was coming down the stairs. You were in the hallway. I must say, that was an unfortunate shade of purple. I wonder what made her choose it.”

“Felicity has deplorable taste.”

“Felicity? Is that her name?”

“You’re a strange girl, aren’t you? Or is it a reflection on my character? I’d think you’d be shocked to find a woman obviously not of the
beau monde
enacting a drama in my hall!”

Loveday laughed. “Shocked? You forget my father, sir! I can remember when my home was overrun by such women. They fascinated me, and spoiled Jem shamelessly. You musn’t think we were unhappy,” she added, after a quick look at Averil’s face. “He was not unkind to us, and we had each other.”

Averil quickly changed the subject. “Felicity was my—”

“Mistress?” Loveday supplied calmly, when he paused.

“Mistress, but I’d given her her leave. I can’t think what possessed Felicity to come here, unless Theo put her up to it.”

“Theo?” Loveday asked faintly.

Averil was intent on his own thoughts, and failed to note her reaction. “Theophilus Tierney, a gentleman of extremely unsavory character. He has a home near here. No doubt he considers it amusing that I should be plagued by the pestilent wench!”

“Hell and the devil confound it!” said Loveday in decidedly unladylike tones. Averil glanced at her, to find her face white and shocked.

“My dear girl!” he protested, then was smitten with sudden insight.
“Not
the infamous wager!” Loveday nodded, her hands clenched with anger.

“My grandmother told me of it, naturally enough, but she didn’t mention his part in it. This is famous! Theo and I are forever at daggers drawn.” Averil paused, and when he spoke again, his voice held a gentler note. “Leave him to me. You needn’t be afraid.”

“It’s not that,” Loveday snapped. “I’d like to murder the wretch! He’s ruined my father, and nearly done the same to me. Do you think I can ever return to London now? The gossipmongers must be doing well with this: Lord Fairchild forced to flee his creditors! I shall sell the townhouse, and settle his debts.”