Three Heroes (25 page)

Miss Hurstman stopped and looked him up and down. “Afraid the mold’ll rub off on them, Trevor? You were a big-eared gawk when I saw you last. Heard you did well at Waterloo, though. Good boy. You don’t want to chatter to me, I’m sure. I know what you want. Miss Trist and Miss Greystone. Consider yourself introduced. Lieutenant Lord Trevor Ffyfe. He’ll be a safe flirt for you because he knows I’ll cut his nose off if he ain’t.”

The young man laughed. “Remarkable woman, my aunt. Are you new to Brighton, ladies? You must be.

I couldn’t possibly have missed two such beauties…”

After a few moments of his flattering, chattering company, Clarissa’s nerves began to settle, and tentative joy crept in. Was it really going to work? Was Miss Hurstman going to perform the miracle and gain her entrance to society? This was what she’d dreamed of—becoming clothes, a fashionable throng, and a gallant, even titled, flirt.

She and Althea had lived in seclusion for two days while Mrs. Howell and her assistants rushed backward and forward doing final fittings on the gowns. They hadn’t been bored, because there had been the hairdresser, the dancing master, and Miss Hurstman’s own drill in perfect, confident behavior.

“Never fluster!” she commanded Clarissa. “Althea can be as demure and uncertain as she pleases, but if you are, they’ll eat you alive. Look them in the eye, remember your fortune, and dare them to turn their backs.”

Now she was being hatched, and in very fine feathers. She loved the bold colors of this one, and the deep, daring fringe. Perhaps in fine feathers she became a little bit of a fine bird?

She kept her chin up, her smile in place, and prepared to look anyone and everyone in the eye.

“Do say that you’ll give me a dance at the assembly on Friday, Miss Greystone.”

Clarissa focused on handsome Lord Trevor, and her smile became genuine. “I’d be delighted to, my lord.”

“I consider myself the most fortunate of men, Miss Greystone!” He was attempting to sound sincere, but she could tell that his dazed attention was more on Althea than herself. She didn’t mind. That was the true purpose of this adventure.

More or less.

She couldn’t resist glancing around in search of Major Hawkinville. There was no reason under the sun for him to be here today, but she couldn’t help but look.

Imagine being able to talk with him at leisure.

Imagine him asking her to reserve a dance.

But then, perhaps the dazzling appeal had been a figment of the moment and here, among so many fine military men, he would be ordinary.

There was only one way to find out.

Another survey showed no sign of him. Patience, she told herself, and concentrated on the increasing number of fine military men. It was as if Lord Trevor had breached the walls—they were surrounded by uniforms, all seeking introductions.

Only one said to Clarissa, “Oh, I say, aren’t you—?” and then shut up, turning red.

“Dunce,” said Lord Trevor with a reassuring smile at Clarissa.

But her nerves started to churn again. She was still the Devil’s Heiress. It was all very well to be swarmed by young officers. Would other parts of society accept her?

The officers all had excellent manners, at least, and shared their attention between Althea and herself.

Since all she wanted from them was the lightest flirtation, it was heavenly.

But what about the major? She glanced around again, searching the clusters of people dotting the fashionable gathering place. She was sure that if he was here he would stand out for her…

And he did!

After just one glimpse, her heart started a nervous patter.

She instantly turned back to the group, smiling brightly at a lieutenant whose name had flown right out of her head, chattering to him in what was probably a stream of nonsense.

Remember, he is a fortune hunter. This is only for amusement, not for life.

“Miss Greystone. Miss Trist. How delightful to see you here.”

Clarissa turned, putting on what she hoped was a merely warm smile. “Major Hawkinville. What a lovely surprise.”

His smiling eyes held a distinct hint of wickedness. “Not entirely a surprise, Miss Greystone. We did speak of it.”

A little shocked by that betrayal, Clarissa was still seeking the right response when a poke in her side alerted her to Miss Hurstman, expecting to be introduced. She grasped the escape, and her chaperone asked a few pointed questions before giving him the nod. Clarissa was surprised to detect something negative in her dragon. Wariness? Concern? Was there something wrong with his family? His reputation?

But then she had it. Probably Miss Hurstman knew him to be a man in need of marrying a fortune. Sad to have that confirmed, but not a shock. She could still enjoy him. In fact, it could be seen as educational.

Once word escaped, she was bound to be swarmed by fortune hunters. She would learn from the major what to expect, and how to handle it.

“Major Hawkinville!” Lord Trevor said. “I say, sir, how good to see you again. And now you meet my redoubtable Aunt Arabella.”

Miss Hurstman’s eyes narrowed. “Been gossiping about me in the mess, Trevor?”

Lord Trevor went red and stammered a denial.

“He was singing your praises,” said the major, “about some work you did helping young workhouse girls.

”

Miss Hurstman looked between them. “Strange topic for officers.”

“We try to be eclectic. Educate the subalterns, you know.” Hawk turned to Clarissa. “Are you enjoying Brighton, Miss Greystone?”

“Perfectly,” she said, adding a silent now.

She’d wondered whether he would seem as special away from riot and adventure, but if anything, he was more so, even when surrounded by other eligible men. He was remarkably elegant, without being foppish. She wasn’t sure how that came about, but she would be happy to study the question.

What was her fortune hunter going to do next?

He chatted to the other men for a moment or two, then he held out his arm to her. Concealing a smile, she put her hand on it, and let him cut her out of the group to stroll about the Steyne.

A simple and direct first step. She approved.

How would he open his wooing?

“You’ve acquired a formidable dragon, Miss Greystone.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Miss Hurstman? She was hired by my trustees, Major.”

“Ffyfe’s aunt?”

“Is that so extraordinary?”

“Ffyfe’s aunt, I believe, is actually cousin to his father, the Marquess of Mayne, rather than sister.

However, she’s sister to one viscount, aunt to another, and granddaughter of a duke. Hardly the type to hire herself out for the season.”

“You’re surprisingly well informed, Major.” She supposed a fortune hunter needed to gather information about his quarry, but such blatant evidence of it dismayed her. And where was the amusing flattery and charm she had anticipated?

But then he smiled rather wryly. “I’m blessed—or cursed—with a retentive memory, Miss Greystone.

Facts stick. You may wish to be a little on your guard.”

“Against your retentive memory?”

It came out rather snappishly, and he looked startled. “Against Ffyfe’s aunt.” But then he added, “Ignore me, please. Someone who’s been in battle often jumps at loud noises. My active service had more to do with puzzles than cannon fire, but I’m left with a sharp reaction to things and people that seem amiss.”

“You see Miss Hurstman as amiss?” Clarissa asked, beginning to be intrigued by the puzzle. “I’d think her eminent background would put her beyond reproach.”

“High rank doesn’t always go hand in hand with virtue, Miss Greystone. I would think you would know that.”

“I?” she asked, a nervous tremor starting. Was he referring to her family?

“I could not help but be curious about you, Miss Greystone, and I learned that you were betrothed to Lord Deveril.”

Despite the sun, Clarissa felt as if a chill wind blew around her. Something must have shown on her face, for he said, “Have I offended you by mentioning it?”

She looked at him. He did not seem repentant. Only watchful. Was this really how fortune hunters behaved? And, she suddenly thought, if he was honest about his curiosity, had he not known in Cheltenham that she was rich?

“It is common knowledge, Major.”

“As was Lord Deveril’s vice. I confess to being curious as to how you came to be committed to him. It cannot have been by choice.”

She silently thanked him for that, but could not, would not, talk about it. It made her almost physically sick.

“My parents compelled me, Major. But it is a matter I prefer not to discuss. I must thank you for the name you gave me, though it was not required. My trustees have found me a pleasant house in Broad Street.”

“A good address. Close enough to the Steyne for convenience, but not so close as to be affected by rowdiness. What with bands, parades, and donkey races, this is often not a restful place.”

She glanced at him. “But do I want to rest?”

He returned her look, and it was suddenly like the time when they had been watching the parade, when he’d silently challenged her. Had he not known then who she was? It seemed crucial, but she had no way to be sure.

“I see,” he said. “You enjoy riot and mayhem?”

She twirled her parasol, sending the fringe dancing at the edge of her vision. “Not precisely that, but some little adventures…”

“You could creep out of your house tonight to explore Brighton with me in the dark.”

“Major!”

But he was teasing, and she loved it.

His smile crinkled his eyes and dug deep brackets beside his mouth. “Too extreme? Or simply too early?

” Before she could find a reply, he added, “We must establish boundaries, Miss Greystone. Could I tempt you to stroll beyond this treeless space and find more privacy?”

“To do what?” she asked, glancing away, but as if she might consider something so outrageous.

“Part of the adventure, Miss Greystone, is the mystery involved.”

She looked back. “But a mystery, Major, might prove to be pleasant, or very unpleasant.”

“There would be no excitement otherwise, would there?”

She met his eyes. “No danger, you mean.”

His only response was a slight deepening of his tantalizing smile.

Suddenly she wanted to say yes. To go off with him and discover just how dangerous he could be. If this was a fortune hunter’s trick, then she could begin to understand why some ladies fell victim to them!

Time to be wise. She looked back toward Miss Hurstman, Althea, and the group of red coats around them. “I think we had best return, Major. I cannot afford to endanger my reputation, for Althea’s sake. I hope she will make a good connection here.”

He turned back without complaint. “You do not seek a husband yourself?”

It pleased her to be able to say, “No.” How would he deal with that?

“That is unusual in a young woman, Miss Greystone.”

“I am an unusual woman, Major Hawkinville.”

She meant merely that she was—or soon would be— independently wealthy, but when he said, “Yes, you are,” it seemed to mean a great deal more.

Despite reason, warmth stirred within her, and it was caused by the admiration in his eyes. She tried to dismiss it as a fortune hunter’s trick, but she could not.

“Your good sense and courage during the riot made a strong impression upon me, Miss Greystone. It also cannot have been easy to be put into such a situation with Lord Deveril, and yet you have survived unscathed.”

She wished he would stop referring to that, but said, “Thank you.”

“You are free of your parents’ cruelty now, I hope?”

“I am under the guardianship of the Duke of Belcraven.” Then she remembered his curiosity, and her wits sharpened. “You did not find that out, Major?”

A quirk of his lips seemed to be acknowledgment of a hit. “Yes, but not why. Or how.”

“Then that puzzle can lend excitement to your life, Major.”

His brows rose. “I am newly back from war, Miss Greystone. I am in no need of excitement.”

She stopped to face him. “That was an unfair blow, sir!”

“Are we duelists, then? I thought us conspirators against your dull world.”

“My world is not at all dull.” Especially not with you in it!

“Ah, of course. You are new to Brighton. Perhaps I should return in a week or two when the novelty has worn off.”

A second too late she knew she had let her dismay at that show. She had forgotten that he didn’t live here. When would she see him again, enjoy his sparring again?

From inside a posy of scarlet coats, Althea flashed Clarissa a speculative look. Clarissa realized that she and the major were standing face-to-face in a way that must look particular. What now? She didn’t know how to do this any more than she knew how to swim. Was she being wooed, or simply toyed with? How should she react? How far could she go without endangering her liberty?

She fell back on frankness. “When you do return, Major, I hope you’ll call. Broad Street. Number eight.

”

He bowed, and by accord they moved on to join her party. “When in Brighton, I am based at number twenty-two, Marine Parade. It has been taken by my friend Lord Vandeimen and his bride.” He glanced past her. “Ah, and here they are, lured by curiosity. Or,” he added softly, “your delectable fringe-veiled ankles.”

Stupidly, she looked down at her fringe as if she wasn’t aware that it effectively made her skirt three inches shorter. By the time she looked up again to greet his friends, she was thoroughly off-balance.

Delectable? He thought her ankles delectable?

Major Hawkinville’s friends were an elegant couple, though Lord Vandeimen’s skin was darker than Hawk’s, and a jagged scar marred his right cheek. Another officer, she was sure. Lady Vandeimen’s complexion was perfect, her eyes heavy-lidded and fine, and her smile warm.

Clarissa thought that the lady must be older than her husband, but little smiles seemed to speak of the warmest feelings.

“Maria!” Miss Hurstman marched over. “Good to see you. This must be the scamp you just married.”

She gave Lord Vandeimen a swift perusal. “Good for you.”