Carola Dunn (20 page)

“Name?” asked the clerk, still bored.

“Baron Alsop of Crowmoor.”

“Chair for his lordship.” There was a pause while an usher brought a chair and opened the barricade to let his lordship through. “Business?” queried the clerk.

“This impertinent young jackanapes assaulted me.” He jabbed a finger at Nathan.

“Name?”

“Sir Nathan Franklin, Baronet, of Langdale.”

“Chair for Sir Nathan.”

“I’ll stand. That aged lecher insulted my sister.”

“Witnesses?”

There was a concerted murmur of “Aye, sir,” “Here, sir,” “That we be,” from the servants and the mowers.

“I am a witness,” said Jessica clearly. “I am Miss Jessica Franklin, Sir Nathan’s sister.”

“Chair for Miss Franklin.”

“Pray be seated, Miss Franklin,” said Mr. Perrin courteously.

Jessica didn’t want to let go Matthew’s hand, nor move away from his comforting presence, but the usher was opening the barricade. She went through and sat on the hard wooden chair, aware of craning necks and whispers in the crowd.

“I take it you don’t deny striking his lordship, Sir Nathan?” asked the magistrate. Nathan shook his head. “Miss Franklin, perhaps you would kindly inform me, what… er... form did the alleged insult take?”

“The toad kissed me.”

Someone sniggered loudly.

“My lord?” invited Mr. Perrin, casting on the baron a look of distaste.

“The jade set up a rendezvous,” he claimed. “She’d have been happy enough to go along if her brother hadn’t caught her at it.”

“I happened to mention that I intended to sketch the Royal Crescent this morning,” she retorted with spirit. “How was I to know that a so-called gentleman old enough to be my grandfather would regard that as an invitation to maul me?”

Mr. Perrin turned to Nathan. “It seems clear to me that you were provoked. However, to resort to violence against a peer is an offence against...” He hesitated as a door in the wall behind him swung open.

Mr. Pearson came in. Jessica caught a glimpse of Lucy’s pink-ruffled gown to one side of the open door and then her face appeared, round eyes gazing anxiously after her father. He stumped up to his fellow-jeweller and engaged him in a low-voiced discussion of which Nathan and Lord Alsop, to judge by the glances sent their way, were the objects.

Then he nodded briskly, sent Jessica a wink and a grin, and returned to his daughter. The door closed behind him.

“Well, Sir Nathan,” said the magistrate, “you have a highly respected character witness vouching for you. Ten shillings fine and bound over to keep the peace for one year. And you, my lord—forty shillings and bound over for a year. Disgraceful behaviour for a gentleman of your age.” His gavel thumped twice.

“Next case,” called the clerk, scratching madly with his pen and ignoring a babble of outrage from Lord Alsop.

The usher opened the barricade and Jessica sped to Matthew’s side.

“Bless him!” she said softly. “And bless Lucy for fetching him. How can Nathan possibly hold out against that?”

“I don’t know, but I shouldn’t count on anything if I were you,” he said.

She looked over to where her brother was paying his fine. In his face, jubilation warred with chagrin.

“You are right.” She sighed. “I must talk to him. Thank you, sir, for...just for being there when I needed you.”

She slipped away to join Nathan. When she glanced back, Matthew was still standing amid the crowd, watching her. His expression of yearning shook her to the core.

Neither brother nor sister was in the mood for conversation as they walked the short distance home to North Parade. Jessica thanked Nathan for saving her from the odious baron, and he grumbled at her in a perfunctory way for allowing herself to be caught in such a disgraceful situation. Then silence fell between them. When they reached Number 15, Nathan would have gone straight upstairs, but Jessica pulled him into the drawing room.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well what?” He dropped into a chair by the empty grate and scowled up at her.

“Mr. Pearson saved your bacon.”

“I know it. I shall have to write to him, and devilish difficult it’s going to be expressing my gratitude without crawling.”

“You
cannot
continue to hold it against Lucy that he is a Cit.”

Nathan jumped up and stalked over to the window. His grip on the sill was white-knuckled as he rested his forehead against the pane.

“I love her, Jess. And Mr. Pearson’s a good sort. But in a way that makes it worse.’’

“Worse?”

“How can I go to him and say, ‘I want to marry your daughter and I’m in urgent need of funds for Langdale?’“

“How can you let pride stand in the way of love? Think how you will hurt Lucy.”

“Why should she believe I love her? She will have every justification for thinking I only want her money, and what can hurt her more than that?”

“I am persuaded that you wrong her. Whatever her father’s considerations, she has never cared a pin for your title or your supposed wealth. She loves
you,
Nathan. She trusts you, she is comfortable with you as she is with few others. Perhaps Mr. Pearson will throw you out on your ear, but you must at least try to win her hand.”

“I cannot!” he cried, swinging round, then added morosely, “I had best reenlist, or go back to America and see if I can make a living there.”

“Will you really be so poor-spirited as to give up Langdale without a fight and to leave me in the lurch into the bargain?”

“It’s hopeless trying to save Langdale. Matthew will marry you, I don’t doubt, but I don’t expect you to ask him for the lease as a bride-gift.”

“That’s just as well, because Matthew has not a penny to his name.”

That announcement broke through Nathan’s preoccupation with his own emotions.

“What? He’s old Stone’s heir.”

“Not any longer. He has been disinherited.”

“Are you sure? How long have you known? Why did you not tell me?”

“I’m sure. I’ve known for several weeks. And there seemed no point in telling you and spoiling a fine friendship.”

“Then Walsingham’s a fortune hunter? I cannot believe it! And he dares to address you—I shall call him out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Nathan glared at her, then his shoulders slumped. “You’re right,” he said dully. “He is no worse than I am.” With a look of despair, he rushed from the room.

Jessica waited, tense, for the slam of the front door. Instead she heard his footsteps on the stair. Like an injured animal, he had retired to his den to lick his wounds.

It was all her fault, she thought hopelessly. Coming to Bath in search of wealthy spouses was her idea, and Nathan was her unwilling victim. Never again would she stoop to deceit.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Matthew didn’t want Jessica to think he was following her, so when he left the Guildhall he drove to the York House Hotel. Lord Ilfracombe was just finishing his breakfast. Pulling out his watch, Matthew discovered it was not yet noon.

“Coffee?” offered his lordship hospitably. He was looking very pleased with himself. “Or would you prefer ale?”

“Ale, thank you, sir. It’s been a long morning.”

“Then you had better have some of this excellent cold sirloin. Waiter, bring some more muffins, if you please.”

Having skimped on his own breakfast while watching for Jessica to pass his window, Matthew was glad to accept. He wolfed down the food, the earl looking on indulgently while sipping his coffee.

The secretary brought in some letters to be signed, then went out on an errand. Matthew finished his meal and sat back with a satisfied sigh. The efficient hotel waiters swiftly cleared the table and took themselves off.

“I don’t mean to be inhospitable,” said Lord Ilfracombe, “but I shall be leaving shortly for Stone Gables. Do I owe the honour of this visit to any particular business?”

“Yes.” Matthew got up and began to pace restlessly. “I can’t wait much longer, sir. Jessica—Miss Franklin—needs me, and lord knows I want her. Does my uncle show no signs of softening towards me?”

“Not precisely. He has reached a sort of
modus vivendi
with your cousin, I fear. That is, he manages to avoid him save at the dinner table.”

“Don’t tell me Uncle Horace is content to have to dodge and hide in his own house!”

“To tell the truth, I have seen little of him.”

Matthew leaned with both hands on the table, frowning. “He was always a sociable man, by no means a recluse. Is he ill?”

“I think not.” His lordship appeared to come to a decision. “You know, Matthew, I was going to advise you to wait a little longer, until he begins to feel the loss of... well, no matter.... But I believe the time may be ripe, after all. As you say, he must be thoroughly uncomfortable having to evade Biggin all the time. If you arrive with a wealthy bride on your arm, thus proving that you understand the value of money, I shouldn’t be surprised if he forgave all and reinstated you as his heir.”

“Then Jessica need never know the whole, or at least not until we are safely wed. You, sir, as a dedicated bachelor, cannot understand how I long to make her mine.”

Astonishingly, the earl flushed. “As to that, I...er...I fear I have been practising a little deception of my own. My visits to Stone Gables have not been all on your behalf, nor is my advice to you to go there now entirely disinterested. Though I believe it’s good advice,” he added hastily.

“I certainly hope so!”

“You see, it has occurred to me that the return of the Prodigal Nephew might be just the thing to distract Lord Stone when I tell him that he’s going to lose his sister. I’ve persuaded Miss Stone to marry me.”

“Aunt Caroline! Good gad, sir, do you mean it? Then you
have
been wearing the willow for her all these years.”

“You must think me a shocking slowtop.”

“Well, if Jessica decided to devote her life to Nathan, I’d pester her half to death before I’d give up,” Matthew vowed. “And if I couldn’t make her change her mind then and there, I wouldn’t go away for years and years, I’d haunt her every step and keep hoping.”

“I have wasted many years,” Lord Ilfracombe admitted sadly.

“Then don’t waste any more. Are you going to break the news to my uncle today?”

“Such is our intention. I shall ride over there as soon as I have rid myself of you.”

“Splendid.” Matthew grinned. “I am going to ask Jessica to go for a drive in the country and we shall follow you.” He leaned across the table and shook hands with the earl. “My congratulations, sir. No one could better deserve to win my Aunt Caro.”

Matthew’s elation lasted until he had retrieved his curricle and his bays from the inn yard and turned the horses’ heads towards North Parade. That was when he realized that in fact nothing had changed. There was no guarantee that Uncle Horace would welcome his return just because he was losing Caroline, nor that he would forgive his errant nephew because he was betrothed to an heiress.

If Matthew confessed to Jessica before he proposed, she would turn from him in scorn. In that case, being reinstated in his uncle’s favour would mean nothing to him. But if he didn’t confess and then Uncle Horace refused to relent, the fat would be well and truly in the fire.

He had come to no decision by the time he reached Number 15. Jessica and Miss Tibbett were in the drawing room; of Nathan there was no sign. Jessica’s glad acceptance of his invitation cheered him somewhat.

“I must change for a drive in the country,” she said, looking down at her daisy-sprigged muslin. “I shan’t keep you above ten minutes.”

She rushed off. He had noticed that her eyes were slightly red-rimmed and he guessed her brother’s recalcitrance about Mr. Pearson to be the cause. What ailed Nathan to allow so small a matter to keep him from the girl he loved? Matthew was ready to spend the rest of his life striving to keep the smile in Jessica’s hazel eyes— but it was all too likely that instead he was going to upset her further.

Miss Tibbett was regarding him gravely over her spectacles, and he had a sudden urge to ask her advice. He suppressed it; if she knew the truth she might forbid Jessica to drive with him.

“With your permission, ma’am,” he said instead, “I should like to take Miss Franklin to see Stone Gables. It is some fifteen miles hence, so we shall be gone all afternoon.”

“I see no reason why you should not,” she acquiesced, “provided, of course, that your groom is with you?”

“Oh... yes, of course. I left him at home this morning. May I send your footman to fetch him?”

Tad was duly dispatched, and returned with Hanson just as Jessica came down. She was wearing a russet carriage dress that somehow made her hair look more like spun moonbeams than ever. All trace of tears was gone, doubtless banished by an application of cold water. She smiled at Matthew and his heart went out to her.

Nonetheless he was far from happy as he handed her into the curricle. As if he had not problems enough, how the devil was he to propose to her at all with the groom sitting up behind?

* * * *

From his chamber window, Nathan watched the smart vehicle with its superb bays set out down North Parade. Guilt left no room for envy in his mind. His pride was hurting Jess as well as Lucy, and—he had to admit it at last—himself.

When he thought of Lucy, all he wanted was to fold her gently in his arms and keep her safe from the world. And yet he was the one who caused her heartache.

It didn’t bear thinking of. Suddenly making up his mind, he grabbed his hat and gloves, dashed down the stairs, and set off at a rapid stride for the upper part of town. If Mr. Pearson threw him out on hearing his story, at least Lucy would know he loved her and had tried to win her hand.

Reaching the Circus, he marched up to the door of the Pearsons’ house as if he were going into battle, and knocked loudly. The haughty butler opened the door.

“I’d like a private word with Mr. Pearson,” Nathan informed him.

Though Nathan had often escorted Lucy to and from the house, he had never, to the butler’s knowledge, set eyes on its owner. But not by the quiver of an eyelid did that worthy indicate that he thought this request unusual.