Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (6 page)

“Except Cardway.”

“Actually, Cardway formed a new obsession within months. And the girl’s father did not need the fortune Cardway offered. Neither of them was harmed by the incident. Both gained sympathy from society.”

She fell silent, reflecting that the one who had been hurt was Richard, whose reputation had suffered from his presumed irresponsibility. Yet it didn’t seem to bother him.

Perhaps he didn’t know about her inheritance after all. She was obviously not the first lady he’d helped to escape an unwanted match, which explained Hawthorne’s
lame duck
comment. Richard must make a habit of helping others. But such a virtue stood at odds with his reputation as a rake and prankster, so society ignored it.

Her heart warmed. There was more substance to him than she’d expected. He wasn’t the malicious prankster rumor supposed. Was his reputation as a rake likewise exaggerated?

Before she could ask, he pulled the horse to a halt and backed up.

She glanced around, surprised that they were approaching an inn. Or had been. Richard whisked them around a corner, out of sight of the stable yard. His reason became clear when Stagleigh’s voice cut through the night.

“…crested carriage with yellow wheels. A man and a woman. Both blond.”

A coarser murmur was too soft to understand.

“My betrothed, damn him. Hughes abducted her. I must catch them before he ruins her.”

Georgiana gasped.

Richard’s hand slid up to cover her mouth. “Quiet,” he whispered in her ear. “I underestimated Herriard. He is checking all the likely routes from London. This is another way to Oakhaven. And it’s also the route to Gloucestershire.”

“I cain’t believe that, milord,” drawled the ostler. Georgiana could almost see him shaking his head. “Master Hughes is a real gentleman, he is. Always ’as a kind word for us.”

Stagleigh cursed. “The man’s a villain. Have you seen him?”

“Not lately. Must be all of a month since he last drove this way. Part of a party, he was. Ten. Maybe twelve others.”

“Today, man!  Have you seen him today?”

“No, not today. Now Mr. Montgomery, he’s in the taproom with a party of bucks. And—”

“Peter!” exclaimed another voice. “What are you doing out here?  Thought you hated Richmond.”

“I could say the same for you, Francis.”

Francis laughed. “Sister’s wedding next week. Dragged my feet so I could stop on the road – Mother is terrifying when she readies the castle for guests, and I’ve no use for my cousins. But you?”

“Chasing Hughes. He abducted my betrothed.”

“Betrothed!  I hadn’t heard.”

“I hadn’t made an announcement. And if I don’t catch the bastard—”

“That doesn’t sound like Hughes,” said Francis slowly. “Granted, he’s a prankster, but he’s never hurt anyone.”

“But this is different.”  Stagleigh’s voice grew fainter as he turned toward the inn. “Share a pint with me. My horse threw a shoe and won’t be ready for a quarter hour.”

“What is different about it?”  Francis ignored the change of subject.

“The girl’s an heiress. Hughes started sniffing around when he discovered her inheritance. Pounced whenever she poked her nose out the door. She complained, of course, to him and to me – we’ve been promised for years. But he must be in the briers again, for he snatched her this afternoon.”

“Who is she?”

“Herriard’s cousin. Father made a fortune in trade. All hers now—”  A door slapped shut, cutting off their voices.

Richard’s hand dug into her chin as he twisted her head to face him. “Heiress?”

“He exaggerates. The business went to Father’s partner,” she reminded him.

“He would hardly leave his only daughter penniless. I need facts, Miss Whittaker. How desperate is Herriard to find you?”  Fury threaded his whisper. The combination seemed more ferocious than any of Derrick’s rants.

But she refused to collapse. “Derrick demanded fifty thousand pounds. Stagleigh signed a contract to pay it.”

— 5 —

Fifty thou— 
Richard nearly fell off the horse. “How much would that leave Stagleigh?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that. Stagleigh isn’t stupid.”

“But Derrick lied. He swore I was worth two hundred, but I can’t be.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Papa left me thirty. There is no way the trustees could have increased the principle that much.”

“It’s possible.”

“Not without investing returns. I’ve not seen a statement from the trust in five years, but Derrick has been living on the quarterly income. I would be shocked if anything was reinvested.”

Richard gritted his teeth. He believed her, not that it mattered. Ten thousand made a girl an heiress. If Georgiana had thirty…

Dear Lord. He was squiring a damned heiress, not a waif. Why didn’t she simply hire guards to keep Herriard away until her birthday?  He had to get free of her before someone spotted them.

Stifling the attraction that had been growing all day, he kicked himself for not asking questions earlier. But at least he hadn’t offered for her. Marriage was now out of the question.

Paying his own way was the only way he could live with himself and was how he’d retained his friendship with Jacob and Charles. He would never accept money from others. Nor could he keep Georgiana in the style she’d enjoyed before Herriard. No one with her background would be satisfied with what he could offer.

Cold to the bone, he guided the horse around Richmond and headed for London.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“You should have mentioned your inheritance earlier. If I’d known how desperate Herriard was…”  The man must be even more desperate than Richard had thought. Why else would he stoop to cheating his closest friend? 

He kicked the horse into a reluctant trot. “At least the road to London will be clear. But we can’t stop until we have you safely hidden.”

“Where?  Hawthorne House?”

“No. There is no way to hide you in Mayfair. Servants talk.”  How else did Lady Beatrice learn everything that happened?  “But Charles owns a cottage that is currently empty. On Monday we’ll speak to the solicitor. Inslip can expedite your petition to the bishop. With luck, it will be decided this week.”

He would have to stay with her, though, he admitted grimly. If Herriard was this desperate, he might find her.

Damnation!  The last thing he needed was to live in a cottage with a damned heiress. But he would never forgive himself if Herriard found her before she was free.

At least Stagleigh would be easy to handle. Once he learned the truth, he would wash his hands of the affair.

But his earlier conclusion was truer than ever. Georgiana would never be safe without a husband. He must find her one. Immediately. Not him, of course. But only marriage would protect her.

* * * *

By the time they reached London, Richard was mad at the world and everything in it. Fate had played him a prank worse than any he’d ever pulled. Lust was driving him insane. Holding Georgiana in his lap for six hours had stretched his control to the limit. How the devil was he to remain aloof under the same roof with her for a week or more?

But he had to. Even if Herriard had dipped into her principle – which wasn’t likely under most trust rules – she was far beyond his reach. He should have realized it earlier. She might be uninformed about some things, but her merchant father would have taught her enough about finances that she would never try to live on the few hundred pounds he’d expected her to have.

He’d been unbelievably stupid. Even after he’d realized that her clothes did not match her breeding, he had not questioned his other impressions. He was too accustomed to people who hid empty purses behind the latest fashion to think an heiress would dress in rags. Now he was trapped.

He’d wracked his brains for a solution that would keep her safe without risking scandal or involving others. But there wasn’t one. Until she was no longer Herriard’s ward, he could not approach her trustees or anyone else who cared more for legalities than people.

So he was on his own. And the prospects were no better than they’d been earlier. He couldn’t afford an inn – which would be dangerously compromising anyway. None of his many friends could house her. Which returned him to Charles’s love nest.

Charles had dismissed his most recent mistress after proposing to Emily and hadn’t yet replaced her. So the cottage remained vacant. Its staff was accustomed to ignoring whatever occurred under its roof. And it was far enough from Mayfair that gossip would spread slowly.

He would use false names, though, and wouldn’t mention Georgiana to Charles.

“Where is this cottage?” asked Georgiana once they passed Hyde Park.

“A couple miles back. But I have to get permission to use it – which means finding Charles.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Probably White’s. Pull that hat down to shade your face,” he murmured into her ear. “You will have to hold the horse while I’m inside. Pretend to be a groom.”

He turned up St. James’s Street, his eyes searching the shadows for anyone he knew. So far they were in luck. It was after midnight, but the balls had not yet ended, and the farce was still under way at the theaters. In another hour the street would be mobbed as gentlemen converged on the clubs, but for now it was quiet. Only two carriages moved toward him, with another parked in front of Brooks’s. The bow window at White’s was empty, and the street denizens were not yet out in force. Most waited until they had their pick of inebriated targets.

He ducked into a narrow passage between buildings and dismounted.

“Steady,” he murmured, setting Georgiana on her feet. She was so stiff she nearly fell.

“What do I do?”

“Stay against the wall so the horse shields you from view. Don’t talk to anyone.”

She nodded, accepting the reins.

“I will be back as soon as possible.”  He strode away, praying that Charles was inside. The last thing he needed was to make a round of the brothels. Charles patronized several. Or he might have changed his mind and accepted one of the invitations that still arrived by the dozen every day. It would be another month before the Season wound down.

But his luck held. Charles was leaning over the hazard table – just as Richard had found him a week earlier. At least this time he wasn’t drunk.

He waited until Charles lost the throw, then tapped him on the shoulder. “I need a moment,” he murmured.

Charles raised his brows, but followed without a word.

“What?” he asked once they reached an empty corner of the reading room.

“Is your Kensington cottage still vacant?”

Charles nodded.

“May I use it for a few days?” 

“Of course.”  But his eyes widened. Richard never begged favors.

“Thank you. When you write to the butler, please omit my name.”

“Curious.”  Charles moved to a writing table and pulled out a piece of paper. “You’ve been odd all day.”

“I’m avoiding Herriard.”

“Ah. I thought I recognized that bellow in church this morning. What the devil does he want?”

Richard hesitated, but Charles was too stiff-rumped to risk the truth. “He may have learned about my meeting at Lords next week.”

“So you found the evidence.”

“And an unimpeachable witness. I’ve an appointment on Monday.”

“If you live that long.”

“Exactly. Herriard enlisted Stagleigh’s help to find me. I don’t want them bothering Mother. She was ready to collapse by the time she headed home this afternoon.”

“True. Should I mention that you’ve moved out of Hughes House?”

Richard nodded. “Casually. I’ve left town now that Emily is settled.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Of course.”  Not that he could involve Charles any further. He would demand marriage if he learned of today’s escapade with Georgiana.

He couldn’t wed her. Period.

But he couldn’t help fretting over her, he admitted as he hurried toward the walkway. Not until he found her unscathed did he recognize the fear that had been knotting his shoulders.

Swearing under his breath, he shoved the letter into his pocket. In moments they were back on the horse and heading for Kensington.

— 6 —

On Monday morning Georgiana sharpened a pen, hoping she could complete a letter to her trustees. But, as had happened all three times she’d tried on Sunday, her brain refused to cooperate. Richard dominated her thoughts, confusing her more with each passing hour.

When they’d fled the Yellow Oak, he’d been warm. Almost seductive. By the time they’d reached this cottage, he’d turned curt, barely controlling fury. At breakfast yesterday he’d been pleasant but aloof. At lunch he’d sent her into gales of laughter by describing mishaps he’d witnessed and pranks he’d played. His eyes had flashed with humor and camaraderie. Yet an hour later she’d heard him pacing and muttering in the next room, so irritated that his tension had seeped through the closed door to stifle her. And last night he’d blown hot and cold throughout dinner, then retired without even bidding her good night. So she shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d been gone when she’d come down for breakfast.

Another oddity was that he’d stationed the maid outside her door both nights, as if he expected her to bolt at any moment. She didn’t like the implication. It couldn’t be for protection against Derrick – the maid was all of sixty and quite dull-witted. So he must be keeping her fortune within reach.

She tried to force her mind back to the letter. It was time to remind her trustees that she was to take charge of her inheritance on her birthday. She must also warn them of Derrick’s greed. Giving the money to Derrick to handle for her would not only break faith with her father but guarantee she never saw a groat of the funds. It shouldn’t happen, of course, but she was rapidly learning that men too often twisted the law for their own benefit. And few believed females could be trusted with more than a few shillings.

She penned a salutation, then paused, mind blank.