Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance (21 page)

Staying for dinner could hardly hurt.

‘Very well.’ He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the small face beneath his. ‘He really didn’t hurt you? Your dress…’

‘My fault entirely,’ she informed him cheerfully. ‘It took quite a bit of effort, let me tell you but I do think the visual impact was important, don’t you?’

He shook his head again. ‘As I said… an absolute terror.’

She gave him a glowing smile. ‘But we have seen the last of them. A good afternoon’s work, I think. He was very angry, was he not?’

He nodded, suddenly sober. ‘He isn’t a fool. I think he knows he has been tricked.’

She gave an airy shrug. ‘He can think anything he likes, as long as he is gone. I have never been so relieved in my life to be rid of somebody. If I have offended him, so much the better. He will be sure not to reintroduce himself at some future date, should our paths happen to cross again.’

Marcus nodded, but he was uneasily aware that a man like Mordern might not take kindly to being bamboozled in such a way. Still, what could he do? He had been cast out of the house and he knew he would not be welcome if he returned. It was doubtful that he would be moving in the same circles as Miss Claybourn in the future. Adventurers rarely sought out old victims.

Even so, he could not entirely rid himself of his sense of disquiet, no matter how illogical it must be.

Chapter Seven

Johanna felt exultant as she dressed for dinner that evening. The entire affair had gone so much better than she had thought it would, mainly because Lord Hathaway had played such an excellent role in the proceedings. In fact, he couldn’t have been any better. Once again, she scrutinized her wardrobe with more than her usual interest, wishing to find something that would captivate him. Dinner would be delightful without the burden of worry she had felt regarding Mrs. Gordon and her father. Tonight she intended to sparkle, charming Lord Hathaway so that he would think twice about leaving. She took his acceptance of her dinner invitation as a positive sign, for she had been sure she would have to devise some ruse to delay him, but no, here he still was.

Perhaps I can convince him to stay for a few days to cheer up poor Papa? He will be sure to be downcast and Lord Hathaway might improve his outlook. Papa is always more cheerful when we have guests.

It was surely worth the attempt. In fact, she was hoping to entice him to stay until after Mrs. Leytham’s dance on Friday. The idea of dancing with Lord Hathaway was truly enticing. Of course, he would probably say that he did not have anything to wear, but she was reasonably confident that they could manage something. It was, she reflected, best to have already considered whatever objections he might make before he made them, lest he catch her out. With so many young men in the neighborhood, surely she could beg a decent set of evening clothes? She had no doubt she could; it would be getting his lordship to accept them – and her invitation to the dance – that would be difficult.

Dinner was far more pleasant than it had been the previous evening, although her father was predictably cast down. Once again her grandmother had retired early, tired out by her excellent efforts at playing chaperone during the afternoon, no doubt. Still, it made for a very intimate gathering and Johanna made an effort to try and cheer her father up. Lord Hathaway, bless him, must have also sensed that his host was in the doldrums and he put himself out to entertain, discussing subjects that she suspected might not be his usual milieu; travel on the Continent, the situation in France (although he did not go into details) and the various ways Bonaparte might be brought to heel. Johanna had the satisfaction of seeing her father perk up after a time and even begin to contribute. As far as she was concerned, it was just another reason to be grateful to Marcus Hathaway.

Happily, the rain that had overshadowed the afternoon had was now pouring down in good earnest and it was exceedingly wet. His lordship, by dint of Johanna protesting over Hermes’ comfort, graciously agreed to stay for just one more night.

‘But I shall have to be off after breakfast,’ he said, voice determined.

She dimpled at him. ‘I know, Sir. You have an appointment in Northumberland.’

‘And let us not forget Durham,’ he replied, returning her smile.

‘I don’t see why not,’ Sir Antony muttered. ‘Most people do.’

‘Unkind, Papa. Mrs. Foxworth comes from Durham. Don’t you remember, we visited her last spring?’

‘Chimneys smoked and her cook was dreadful. The beef was very dry.’

‘She was charming, just the same and I thought it was a very pretty county.’ Johanna turned her attention back to Lord Hathaway, debating whether to bring up Friday’s dance or to wait until the time was more propitious. Wait, she decided. He looked very comfortable ensconced in a chair by the fire but if he thought she was plotting to keep him with her for two more days she had no doubt that ‘after breakfast’ would somehow become the crack of dawn and he would be gone. Her father had often taken her fishing when she was young – well, last year, to be exact – and he had taught her that the best way to finesse a fish onto the river bank was to use patience and guile. Let it think it was winning the battle, but all the while bring it just a little closer. Johanna wanted to land Lord Hathaway very badly. The more she knew of him, the more there was to admire and she dreaded the thought of him leaving.

So she would just have to find a way to make him stay. Propping her chin on her hand, she considered the conundrum. How to make him stay…

She sat up in her chair, so abruptly Lord Hathaway raised an eyebrow. She gave him a quick smile and rose to her feet.

‘I just remembered I promised to take Mrs. Pickford’s latest letter up to Grandma before she goes to sleep. She does love to read such stuff.’ It was a half-truth; Mrs. Pickford was a particular crony of her grandmother and they had developed a maliciously gleeful bond, over the years. As was the case with older ladies, outrageous gossip was their forte and Mrs. Pickford, who was staying with her son in Cumbria, wrote especially interesting letters outlining everything that was wrong with her daughter-in-law, the house, the neighbors and the food. Particularly, the food. One had arrived that morning but Grandma was yet to see it. Johanna smiled at her father and Lord Hathaway. ‘I shall be right back.’

And, finding the letter where it had been put aside, she hurried up the stairs.

She was a little more than a minute. Actually, she was more like half an hour but when she returned, she felt a lot more cheerful. She sat down with a flourish and grinned at her father.

‘You were a time, my dear,’ he observed, with a fond smile. ‘Is your grandmother all right?’

‘She is perfectly well. She just wanted to have a little chat. Papa, do you think I may have a
little
glass of wine tonight?’

It was a familiar refrain. She asked and he told her the various reasons why it was inappropriate for a gently brought up young lady to drink wine. As usual, a heated debate ensued, enhanced by Lord Hathaway’s contributions to the discussion. He came out on her side, telling her father that two of his younger sisters occasionally indulged in a glass of wine, as did his mother. Johanna entered into the spirit of the conversation gleefully, well satisfied with the day’s events. The ogres had been vanquished, the hero was still in residence at the castle and, as all fairytales should end well, the princess would hopefully cast a spell over him in the next few days.

It was, she thought with considerably satisfaction, all going exactly as she’d wished it to.

Marcus knew that staying with the Claybourns was risky. It was, he had discovered very quickly, the kind of family that could suck a man in. There was always something happening. But tomorrow he would be on his way and this would all be nothing more than a pleasant, rather amusing, memory.

He glanced at Johanna Claybourn again. Her face was animated, her dark eyes alight with laughter and he reflected that it was possible that she might be a little more difficult to forget than he would have preferred. The girl was a complete original. Not that he intended to stay and pursue what all the world knew would be an obvious solution to his situation. Miss Claybourn was rich and beautiful and would undoubtedly be delicious to kiss, but he had taken a vow to
not
do what was expected of him. Whenever he thought about marriage, he thought about all the things he could not provide. Affection and respect were all very well, but it would have been nice to offer something a little more tangible. A suitable house would have been an excellent start.

What made the situation even trickier was that he sensed Johanna Claybourn would be open to a dalliance of some kind. He had caught more than one thoughtful glance cast his way and recognized the signs. But he also knew that this could be no more than a young girl’s fancy. He had rescued her, after all. It was only natural she would look upon him as a potential beau, especially when she was surrounded by the very young and the very idiotic. From her perspective, he had ridden in and slain several of her dragons.

All the more reason to be gone after breakfast. The rain was still coming down with all the enthusiasm that often accompanied April, an unpredictable month. He hoped it would be done by the time he set off. That was one thing he had found most agreeable; dry, freshly pressed clothing. He had half expected that either Miss Claybourn or Sir Antony would urge him to stay and was surprised when only Sir Antony had proffered an invitation to join them for a few more days.

‘Go riding, my boy. Do some fishing. You have already said that you have no pressing engagements.’

‘You are very kind but I do have a plan, of sorts. I wish to travel all the way up to the Scottish border before turning about and heading for home. I must be back by May.’

‘Back where?’ Miss Claybourn inquired with interest.

‘In London, probably. It is my sister Audrey’s birthday and I have made her a promise to be there.’

‘We might see you there, then,’ Sir Antony observed. ‘I am taking Johanna up to London in the next few weeks.’

‘You said four weeks,’ she reminded him with a quick frown.

‘Yes, but there is a deal to do, my dear. I have been told that there are a great many…um… dresses that will need to be bought and you must be presented and the Season itself will have started already. Don’t you want to be there for all of it?’

‘No,’ his daughter said with some decision. ‘I don’t want to be there for any of it.’

‘My dear girl,’ her father expostulated, ‘how else are you to find a suitable husband?’

Johanna Claybourn eyed her father, her expression hard to read. ‘How indeed?’ was all she said, however but Marcus wasn’t fooled. He had no doubt the young lady had very definite ideas on the subject and did not doubt that she would be delighted to express them at some stage.

They all retired to bed in good order and he reflected that his sojourn at Cloverton Hall had not been as onerous as he had anticipated. Yes, the family was a little eccentric, but they had been charming on the whole and he had helped to rid them of a pernicious pair, in the form of Lord Mordern and his clinging vine of a sister. He could leave with a clear conscience, knowing that Miss Claybourn was currently free of travail, although he had no doubt that something else would occur before too long. She was just that kind of girl.

He was just finishing breakfast – and a lively discussion with his young hostess about horseflesh, a subject she seemed extremely well informed on – when the butler Harmon came and invited him upstairs to see Mrs. Howeth. Marcus stared at him in surprise.

‘Mrs. Howeth?’

‘Yes, my lord. She has asked if you will attend her.’

He glanced at Miss Claybourn who looked surprised. ‘What does she want, Harmon?’

‘I could not say, Miss.’

Marcus gave a mental shrug and rose to his feet. The old lady probably wanted to thank him for his intervention with Mordern and Mrs. Gordon. He would see her before seeking out his host and bidding him goodbye.

As it turned out, Katherine Howeth did indeed thank him for taking a hand in her granddaughter’s affairs.

‘You’ve been right grand, lad and you’ve got my gratitude!’

But she had one more favor to ask of him and somehow, he had not liked to say no. Mrs. Howeth was staunch and composed and, he suspected, rather courageous. Admirable, in fact. How could he say no to such a woman?

He came downstairs twenty minutes later and found Johanna Claybourn discussing household matters with the housekeeper. She paused, smiling at him.

‘Is Grandma all right?’

‘She appears perfectly well,’ he said, a little grimly. ‘Miss Claybourn, I understand that you intend to go into Driffield later on today?’

She looked surprised. ‘Why, yes. I need to pick up several things and Grandma has particularly asked for several books from the lending library. Why do you ask?’

‘Your grandmother has asked me to accompany you.’

She gave him a puzzled look. ‘But why should she do that?’

‘After what happened yesterday she is concerned for your safety.’

Miss Claybourn opened her dark eyes very wide. ‘Goodness! However did Grandma discover
that
?’

‘I have no idea but she has told me that she would feel better if she knew that I was there to protect you.’ He still couldn’t believe he had agreed, especially as he knew that the whole affair had been a sham. But he had not liked to say so to Mrs. Howeth in case he was telling tales out of turn and really, she had good reason to be concerned if she thought her granddaughter really was in any danger.

Miss Claybourn pursed full, pink lips. ‘I don’t think that is required, my lord and I would be loath to hold you up any further. I know you are eager to be on your way.’