A Midsummer Bride (4 page)

“Hello!” said Harriet.

Penelope blinked. “Hello to you as well.” Penelope was a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, as Harriet was herself. In keeping with the occupation of a companion, Penelope was dressed sensibly, a drab comparison to her rich surroundings. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple knot and everything about her spoke of efficiency and quiet confidence.

“I am glad you are enjoying your visit to London, Miss Redgrave,” said Penelope.

“Oh my stars!” exclaimed Harriet jumping to her feet, causing the duchess to clank down her teacup in surprise. “Is that a Titian on the wall? You have some amazing artwork!”

“Yes, yes, indeed,” said Lord Langley hastily. “Harriet, my dear, Her Grace has kindly offered to sponsor your presentation into society. But let us away. We will see you ladies at the house party. I wish you all a safe journey. Come along, Harriet.”

***

Penelope watched with some interest as Langley hustled Harriet out the door.

“Well, Madame X?” asked Antonia, meeting her gaze. “Are you ready for a matchmaking challenge?”

Penelope gave her a half smile to show she was not a coward. “I imagine you should double whatever you were intending to charge Lord Langley for our services.”

“Done!” The duchess was not one to turn away income. Her grandson, the current Duke of Marchford, had cut off the majority of her funds in an attempt to force her to move to the dowager house in the country. The dowager, however, had taken matters into her own hands and went into business with Penelope as matchmakers to the
haut
ton
under the pseudonym “Madame X.”

“It will be a challenge,” admitted Penelope. “I may be forced to take up strong drink before the end of the house party.”

“I feel inclined to have a strong drink now,” declared the duchess. “But when we find a titled husband for the likes of Harriet Redgrave, not only will our financial worries be solved, but the reputation of Madame X as the best matchmaker in the country will be sealed!”

“Ye’re a marked man,” the Earl of Thornton commented as he watched a never-ending stream of carriages pull into the drive of Thornton Hall.

“You are also a bachelor, my friend,” said the Duke of Marchford, leaning on the tower parapet beside him. “Perhaps they come for you.”

Thornton raised an eyebrow. “Ye may say it as oft as ye wish, but it still winna make it true. The maidens come for ye, the young men come for the maidens, and the parents come to ensure their favored child does not leave here without marriage papers being signed. London’s elite did not travel all the way to savage Scotland to have their daughters be mistress of this crumbling tower.”

“Thornton Hall is hardly crumbling,” objected the duke. He could hardly deny anything else.

Thornton Hall was situated in the heart of the Scottish Highlands. If one wished for a distant retreat, one could not ask for a location more remote unless one traveled to the Isle of Skye. Originally built in the sixteenth century, Thornton Hall was the ancestral home of the Maclachlan clan and had endured many improvements and expansions by subsequent lords of Thornton. The hall embraced Gothic architecture and had two requisite towers and several smaller turrets. On the rocky hills above, Thornton Hall even boasted its own ruins, the remains of Maclachlan Castle.

The grounds, at least what could be seen of them from the road, were all meticulously groomed, and the entryway, main parlors, dining rooms, and ballroom were all well appointed. Whether the upkeep of the home and grounds extended beyond what was immediately obvious was the matter of some debate.

“Everything did look verra nice when we arrived today,” said Thornton in an ominous tone. “I fear my mother has once again seen fit to replace the drapes and the upholstery. At great expense no doubt.” Despite his difficult financial situation, his mother spent money, or rather purchased things in his name, with such alarming frequency that some of the local shopkeepers had gone so far as to hint at not providing any more goods until his debts were paid.

“Lady Thornton should be pleased to serve as hostess for this house party,” commented Marchford.

“Pleased? She is beyond pleased. She is ecstatic—an emotion I fear also came with a pressing need for a new wardrobe!”

Marchford winced. “Sorry, old man. I will not have you incur any other expense for this house party, you understand. I have invited these guests and the entirety of the cost shall be mine.”

“Nay, I canna…”

“I am quite resolved on this matter. I will be forced to meet you at dawn if you continue to oppose me on this.”

Thornton lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. But only because I concede ye are a better shot.” Unfortunately, Thornton could ill afford to feed all these guests without his friend’s help, as well they both knew.

Thornton leaned his arms against the cool stones of the parapets and enjoyed the brisk breeze. “O’ course ye are welcome at Thornton at any time, but why not hold this party at yer own estate? And it’s no use telling me about the variety of hunting for a gaming party, I canna believe it.”

Marchford sighed. “The war with Napoleon goes poorly. Many now fear the emperor has his eyes set on the British Isles. The house party was intended to bring together some of our previous and current military leaders to plan the next offensive and the defense of our homeland. I wished to hold these meetings as far from London as possible to keep these plans from falling into enemy hands. London is hardly safe.”

Thornton nodded in understanding. Marchford had recently returned from three years in Spain working for the Foreign Office and had gained a reputation for flushing out spies both abroad and at home. “I thought we caught the spy who had infiltrated society.”

“We caught one, but I am relatively confident spies remain at large in London society.”

Thornton shrugged. “I dinna doubt it, with what Napoleon is paying for information.”

Marchford frowned. “How would you know what traitors are being paid?”

“I’ve heard rumors, my friend. Do ye doubt even me?”

Marchford sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “This is a nasty business. Makes me daft with suspicion.”

“I am sorry to hear yer mental state is failing.”

Marchford cast his friend an imperious look just as a large boom rocked the house and gave the tower a quivering jolt. Both men grabbed on to the battlements to keep from falling.

“What was that?” asked Marchford.

Thornton was too busy running down the stairs to answer. Following the smoke, they ran to where the sound had originated. A bedroom door burst open and more acrid smoke billowed out. A young woman staggered from the room, coughing hard and coated in soot.

Thornton caught the young lady in his arms, who appeared unsteady on her feet. He quickly scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs and out through a side door so she could breathe the fresh air.

“Stop!” The lady tried to say more but began coughing again. “I can manage.”

Thornton placed her down on the stone step and rubbed her back to try to help her breathe. “Dinna fear, just take several deep breaths.”

The lady did as requested and, after several deep breaths with her head down, looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“Miss Redgrave!” A jolt of something flashed through him. What had happened here? Was she all right?

“I am sorry to cause such trouble,” she said, trying to smooth back tendrils of her auburn hair that had escaped her bun. “Especially since you were so kind as to invite us.”

“Are ye hurt?”

“No, I am fine.” She smiled, her teeth white in contrast to her soot-covered face.

“I do apologize. I canna understand what has caused this. If ye will be well, I need to return to discern what has happened.”

“Oh, I can tell you that. It is my fault entirely. I have been traveling so long I simply could not wait to begin my next experiment as soon as we reached the house.”

“Experiment?” asked Thornton.

“I dabble in chemistry.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yes, I do apologize, but I was slightly careless with my mixing, and I had a tiny little explosion.”

“Explosion?” Thornton realized he was copying her like a parrot, but given her extraordinary tale, he could not find sensible speech.

“Do not worry. There’s no damage, or at least I think I kept it to a minimum. I’ve had many much larger explosions at home.”

And now Thornton could think of nothing to say. He often lacked conversation with ladies, but this was worse than usual. He sat beside her mute on the step. An awkward silence engulfed them.

Harriet pressed her lips together in a manner that hardly improved her appearance. Her face and hands were dirty and her frock appeared to have been torn in the explosion.

At length, Harriet spoke again. “I don’t think we ever properly met each other. I mean I know your title, but what is your name?”

Thornton opened his mouth but no speech emerged, his mind spinning at this unconventional female. What kind of an introduction was this? “I am Duncan Maclachlan, Earl of Thornton, at yer service.”

“Harriet.” She held out her soot-covered hand.

He smiled in spite of himself. He took her hand in his and they shook hands then held on for a moment longer. “Yer hands are not cold this time.”

“Chemicals. Explosions. Keeps them warm.” Her eyes were a bright green.

“Might I suggest a fireplace? Or would that be too conventional for an American such as yerself?”

“I shall try to amend my ways. For you. Since you saved me.” She gave him a slow smile.

Perhaps it was some of those chemicals wearing off on him, but he was suddenly flushed with heat as well. Being cast in the role of hero was new to him. Whenever adventure struck, it was always his friends for whom the ladies swooned, while he was the sensible one who picked up the pieces and took care of the details. Yet in Harriet’s eyes, he saw himself a different man.

“It was my pleasure.” Never had he spoken those words with more truth.

“I suppose I should go help clean the mess.” She stood up and wiped the soot off her hands and onto her skirts.

Thornton stood and gave a polite bow. She returned it with a smile.

“Thank you for your help, Lord Duncan… I mean Lord Thornton.” She looked away.

Thornton could not tell exactly beneath the soot, but he suspected she was blushing. “I am at yer disposal if ever any o’ yer plans go awry.”

Harriet turned back with a broad smile. “I fear that would keep you busy day and night. And now that I think of it, I am mostly confident the fire has been put out of the drapes, but I should go confirm.” She whirled and disappeared back into the house.

Thornton found he needed to take a few deep breaths himself before returning to the house. She was so unlike any other female he had ever met he became utterly perplexed and simply ended up being himself. Imagine a lass who dabbled in chemistry. Tiny little explosion? Not when his mother found out. He hustled back into the house. It seemed his self-assigned role as Miss Redgrave’s protector might prove to be an extensive occupation indeed.

***

Harriet Redgrave rushed back into the house away from her rescuer. The main entryway was filled with confused guests all talking at once about what had happened. She avoided the crowd and ran up the side staircase Lord Thornton had carried her down.
Carried
. Yes, she had actually been carried, by a man who picked her up like she was a wisp, which she knew full well was hardly the case.

Her heart was beating fast before she had even taken one step. She had done many things in her life, but never had she been swooped up by a man and rescued. Not that she needed rescuing… much… but it was an interesting sensation. As a devoted scientist she should look into this intriguing reaction.

As an unmarried female, she should leave it be.

She feared she had made a mess of things with Lord Thornton. Every word from her mouth made the man appear more perplexed. It was a situation most girls dream of, being carried out of a burning building by a tall, dark, handsome man, who was an earl no less. Any other girl would have known how to handle the situation. Any other girl would have flirted, whatever that might be, and would have secured his undying affection before teatime. But of course, any other girl would not have set her room on fire within two hours of her arrival.

Harriet hustled to her room with the intent of hiding as much of the evidence as possible. Voices sliced down the hallway from her room. Unhappy, raised voices. She paused outside her door, out of sight. It had been her considerable experience that after a slight incident, people often needed a little time to settle their sensitivities before talking to her.

“Where is Lord Langley? Should he not take things in hand?” demanded an angry male voice Harriet recognized as the Duke of Marchford.

“Lord Langley took ill on the journey here,” said Penelope Rose. “Nothing dire I believe, but he has been confined to his bed until he has recovered, so we will be taking over as chaperones and introducing Miss Redgrave into society.”

“Why, Grandmother?” asked the duke, his voice low and deep almost like a growl. “Why would you offer to sponsor an American, an American who apparently likes to engage in the wanton destruction of property, at my house party?”

“I grant you Harriet Redgrave is a trifle eccentric,” hedged the Dowager Duchess of Marchford.

“Eccentric?” interrupted the duke. “Eccentric is what you called Uncle Melvin when he took to wearing paper hats and digging holes in the garden wearing nothing but his stockings and bedroom slippers. This is… I’m not sure what. Just look at this mess of bottles and powders and things. I am afraid to touch it lest I blow out the whole wall.”

“Every lady should have a hobby,” said Penelope. “Miss Redgrave told me she enjoys chemistry. Apparently, there was a minor incident.”

“Minor? The drapes are still smoldering. Lady Thornton is going to be quite displeased.”

Harriet leaned against the wall with a sigh. The Earl of Thornton was married. Naturally, why wouldn’t he be? Why should it matter to her in the slightest?

“Lady Thornton is displeased with everything, so it will be no great change to her temperament,” muttered the dowager.

“Grandmother, I want to know what you are about. Why take an interest in chaperoning an American chit with a penchant for blowing things up?”

“Lord Langley asked if I might sponsor her,” explained the dowager.

“The Lord Langley you have frequently referred to as an odious man who had as much compassion as a rabid fox caught in its burrow?” Marchford’s voice was without humor. “Miss Rose, kindly tell me what this is about.”

A pause silenced the room and Harriet held her breath. If the duchess was not friends with her grandfather, then why had she offered to chaperone?

“Miss Redgrave is in need of our help. We are helping,” said Penelope.

“What kind of help?” asked Marchford suspiciously. “Grandmother, I have heard rumors that you have a contact with a matchmaker. Please don’t tell me you are mixed up in this.”

“Your wish is granted. I shall not speak of it.”

Harriet bit her lip. So this is why her grandfather arranged for her to attend this house party. He wanted her to get married. She turned away and found Thornton standing a few paces behind her. What must he think of her?

He walked closer and leaned down to whisper to her. “I do believe I prefer chemistry to paper hats.”

She smiled at his kind words, especially since she expected, and probably deserved, censure.

He offered her his arm and they walked into the room together. Perhaps it was her own imagination, but she could feel the heat from his body. Harriet experienced an unfamiliar feeling of acceptance and something else she had more difficulty naming. It was not usual for a man to offer friendship, particularly right after she had experienced a little “incident.”

“Good news,” Thornton announced to all in the room. “Miss Redgrave is unhurt.”

Nobody seemed particularly relieved at his pronouncement. Harriet did a quick survey of the damage to the room. It was still smoky, but it had escaped major damage. The drapes were singed at the bottom, but perhaps no one would notice.