Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance (12 page)

‘I do not mean to sound hysterical,’ Miss Claybourn continued on in a low voice, ‘but I want the advice of somebody who has seen something of the world. Lord Mordern is always about the place, turning up when I least expect it. He has not been so bold as to come to my bedchamber but it seems that he watches me all the time and there have been several occasions when I have thought – when I have believed – that his intentions are far from honorable. But he is always so careful, you see! When it first happened I thought I had just imagined it but only yesterday he caught me up in the hallway and tried to kiss me -’

‘The devil he did!’ Marcus exclaimed, appalled. ‘Excuse my language, Miss Claybourn but you must tell your father. Get the man pitched out of the house.’

‘Papa would not believe me!’ she cried, wringing her hands together. ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but my father is very much under Mrs. Gordon’s influence. He thinks the world of her and I am sure that he would say that I am just imagining it, or that I must have been mistaken. For there is no proof, you see. Lord Mordern only makes these advances when we are alone. It is,’ she added in a low voice, ‘very alarming.’

Marcus could well believe her. It must be damned alarming having a low life like Mordern chasing her around her own house. And while it seemed extraordinary that her own father might not believe her, he had seen with his own eyes the way Sir Antony made puppy-dog eyes at Mrs. Gordon who appeared to encourage him shamelessly.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ he muttered, thinking the matter over.

‘I know it is. And I know I have no right to ask your advice on such a personal matter but I do not know who else to turn to. My grandmother is quite old and should not be troubled by such things. I would dearly love Lord Mordern and his sister to leave but I do not know how to be rid of them.’ She looked up at him, soft mouth trembling in the dimness and he found he had to resist the urge to put a comforting arm around her. That would hardly be helpful, especially as her presence alone with him in the stables would be considered exceedingly improper. But she looked so forlorn and so very sweet, it was hard to resist. ‘I am already deeply in your debt for your assistance today. It convinced me that you were an honorable man who might be able to direct my actions. What should I do, Lord Hathaway? I am getting quite desperate.’

Marcus stared down at her and tussled with his conscience, his inclinations and an increasing sense of fatalism. He had known from the outset that returning Johanna Claybourn to the bosom of her family would mean trouble although he had not anticipated this. But could he really walk away? The very idea of some fellow trying to take advantage of such an innocent young female caused his ire to rise and, right at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to punch Mordern square in the nose.

This is not your fight. This girl is not family and is of no concern to you. Not really
…

But she was Audrey’s age, or thereabouts and he knew damn well what he would be doing if it was one of his sisters who was on the receiving end of such unwelcome attentions. And if her father was too deluded to protect the interests of his only daughter… Clearly, Sir Antony thought Mordern a capital fellow. He would probably welcome any excuse to propose a match between the two and Marcus would not wish such a match on any girl. Her life would be a misery.

‘I am unsure what kind of advice to give you, at this point,’ he admitted slowly, thinking the matter through. ‘All I can suggest is… I suppose I had better take up your father’s kind invitation after all and stay the night. And if I get the opportunity, I will take it upon myself to set Lord Mordern to rights. A gentleman does not force himself upon a lady under any circumstances. It seems he needs to be reminded of this unassailable fact.’

‘Oh!’ Miss Claybourn breathed, clasping her hands together. ‘Oh Lord Hathaway, that is too kind of you. But I could not possibly allow you to put yourself in harm’s way for me. Lord Mordern is a
very
unpleasant man. If he were to hurt you in any way…’

‘He will do nothing of the kind,’ Marcus said briskly, letting himself into the stall and collecting the two soft linen sacks in his saddle bags that held the extent of his wardrobe. ‘Have no fear for me, Miss Claybourn. I will deal with Lord Mordern before I leave and you can rest assured he will not bother you again.’

‘You are very good, Lord Hathaway,’ she murmured quietly. ‘I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your assistance. I know it must be an infernal nuisance for you, but I am very grateful that I met you on the road today.’

Which was, he thought ruefully as they headed back towards the house, all well and good but he was really in the mire now. His plans for a speedy exit from Cloverton Hall were in tatters and he knew he would not be able to be on his way until he could ensure that Miss Claybourn’s virtue was in no danger. The perils of having three younger sisters were such that one ended up with an overinflated sense of obligation. He simply could not walk away from something so patently wrong, despite the fact that the girl was not his responsibility. What would his mother say if he walked away? He did not need to think too hard on that for he knew exactly what she would say.

So here he was. Without a new shirt to wear to dinner and in desperate need of some toiletries. He feared he would look underdressed at dinner and hoped that his stay would only be for one night. Any more than that and he would be borrowing heavily from the footmen who could always be relied upon to stump up with what was required for a little extra coin. But he didn’t want this to take any longer than a night. The sooner he sorted Mordern out, the sooner he could be done with this affair.

He couldn’t wait to be on his way again.

I think I overplayed that a little,
Johanna reflected judiciously as she walked silently back to the house with Lord Hathaway. She had decided to take on the role of the poor, persecuted female in fear of her virtue, which was not
strictly
untrue. Unless she was very much mistaken, Lord Mordern would help himself to her virtue without a second thought. She really had been artfully avoiding being alone with him although, rather than submit to any possible caresses from the man she did not doubt she would be able to defend herself. A well-placed hit could have a very demoralizing effect on most men, even the most amorous and she was not the type of female to quibble over delivering such a blow.

She had hoped that Lord Hathaway would respond favorably to her story of maidenly distress but she had not expected such a gratifying result. He obviously did not think a great deal of Lord Mordern himself and had been more than willing to believe the worst of him. Johanna briefly wondered what Mordern would think if Lord Hathaway challenged him, but did not dwell on it for long. If the man took umbrage, all the better for she would be more than happy to see the back of him. He could take his flirtatious sister with him and depart in a high dudgeon; the sooner the better, as far as Johanna was concerned.

She shot a quick glance at the face of the man beside her. He looked rather grim and for that she could hardly blame him. She had painted a scene that was worthy of its own romantic novel and she hoped that he would not take it upon himself to immediately find Mordern and eject him forcibly from the house. Whilst it would be pleasant to be rid of the man, there would be no reason for Lord Hathaway to stay and she was rather set on keeping him around for a few days. Time enough to…. Well, what she wanted was unclear but she knew that she did not want him to go. She was deeply curious about Marcus Hathaway and wished to know more, something that could not happen if he disappeared down the road and out of her life.

Besides, he is a very good looking man
, a small voice within whispered wickedly. Oh yes, he was certainly one of the best looking young men she had encountered in all of her eighteen years. She would do whatever she could to ensure that he stayed for a little while longer.

Life was far too dull to allow such a creature to be on his way again so soon.

Chapter Four

‘My dear Miss Claybourn,’ the purring accents brought Johanna up short. ‘Do wait for me, won’t you?’

She felt her teeth clench automatically at the words but made her face smooth out into, if not a welcoming expression, at least an acceptable mask of politeness. Turning, she faced the older woman behind her, who was looking dazzling in jonquil colored satin. Her blonde tresses, of a far deeper shade than Johanna’s own silvery locks, had been arranged in an elaborate series of twists, which had been covered with a fine net of gold that rather resembled that which might be worn by a medieval maiden. Celine Gordon’s body was full and voluptuous and her low décolletage showed a great deal more white bosom than was usually flashed in the conservative apartments of Cloverton Hall.

Dear heavens
! Johanna thought, blinking a little at the sight of so much flesh.
I do hope she does not lean forward too far. She’s just as likely to fall out and then poor Papa will not know where to look…

‘Mrs. Gordon,’ she said, recovering. ‘What an
interesting
dress.’

Celine glanced down at herself with some satisfaction. ‘French, my dear. I get most of my dresses from France. So much better than anything to be found in England.’

‘How shocking of you, considering we are at war with them.’

The woman gave a rich chuckle. ‘My dear child, nothing as dreary as a war should be allowed to interfere with a lady’s wardrobe. If you like, I can arrange an introduction to my dressmaker.’

‘That’s all right,’ Johanna replied, a little grimly. ‘I am quite satisfied with my own woman.’

‘But my dear,’ the woman regarded Johanna’s gown of pale green crepe with its overskirt of silver sarcenet with critical eyes, ‘it is charming enough, to be sure, but you could be quite démodé in London unless you have a more experienced hand to guide you.’

‘I was hoping to get by on my looks,’ Johanna returned, voice bland. ‘And having a great deal of money is sure to boost my popularity, don’t you think?’

She had the satisfaction of having taken the lady aback, something she was fairly certain did not occur very often. After a moment, however, Celine threw back her head and laughed.

‘But you are such an original, Miss Claybourn,’ she said merrily, coming forward to take Johanna’s arm. ‘I will allow, I have never been so entertained as I have been since coming to Cloverton Hall.’

‘Dear me,’ Johanna muttered. ‘And here I was, thinking you must have led such an interesting life.’ The comment produced another bout of laughter. The woman would not be offended, no matter what was said.

It would have been exceedingly discourteous to pull away from her companion’s grasp and Johanna found she did not have quite that amount of rudeness in her. Therefore she suffered dear Celine’s touch until they had reached the drawing room and she could reasonably be allowed to free herself. She had been looking forward to dinner, knowing that Lord Hathaway would be joining them. He would certainly help to mitigate the presence of Lord Mordern; a welcome prospect as there was no guarantee that her grandmother would be present. She tended to tire in the evening and often, if she had eaten well at afternoon tea, took no more than bread and butter in her bedchamber on a tray before retiring. With such a small company, Johanna was hoping to discover a little more about her mysterious, chivalrous traveler. He was certainly proving to be her Sir Lancelot, tackling footpads on her behalf and agreeing to slay the metaphorical dragon that was Lord Mordern. Surely he was unmarried, for no married man would wander about as he had been. He had been wounded in the war, as well, which only enhanced his cachet. With those dark curls and brilliant blue eyes how could she not be interested? Especially, she reflected with wry amusement, when he was not particularly interested in
her
. She was rather hoping to change that before the next few days were over. She only hoped he did not find an opportunity to deal with Mordern too quickly, for she needed time to get to know Marcus Hathaway better and the more time he spent at Cloverton Hall, the better.

Papa was waiting for them in the drawing room. His face lit up at the sight of Mrs. Gordon and Johanna felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy at his obvious admiration of the woman. Really, her father was behaving like a man infatuated and she had the uneasy idea that his mild flirtation might have something more behind it. What if he was really interested in Celine Gordon? Might he be interested enough to think about making her the second Mrs. Claybourn? He had loved Johanna’s mother, he really had – but she had been gone for eleven years now and he was not
that
ancient. Many men in their fifties took a wife. Heavens, Lord Wisley had married a girl less than half his age last year. It had been the talk of their social set for he was in his sixties and looked rather like a wizened gnome. Johanna had shuddered to think of what mysteries the bridal chamber had presented to poor Lady Wisley, although one of their acquaintances, Mrs. Farquhar, had predicted that the old fool would fall asleep before he’d removed so much as the first layer of clothing off his bride. Johanna had garnered what little she knew of what went on the wedding night from some of the more lurid romances her father did not know she read, so her understanding of what actually happened was sketchy, at best. But it did seem likely that such a weak creature as Lord Wisley might have trouble performing his conjugal duties.

Even so, Papa was no Lord Wisley. While she had never really thought of it before, Johanna had to admit there was no reason why he could not marry again.

Good God, could Mrs. Gordon end up as my step-mama?
As the woman had only been there a week, it hardly seemed possible and yet there was no mistaking the way her father preened when the lady slunk – for really, there was no other term for it – over to him, laughing at some nonsensical thing he was saying, as if he were the most amusing man in the world. Anybody would think that Sir Antony was the wittiest creature she had ever encountered and Johanna regarded the pair doubtfully. If Papa did indeed mean to marry Mrs. Gordon she resolved to accept the least offensive offer that came her way as soon as practicable, for there was no way that she wished to share a household with such a woman.
At least
, she reflected sourly,
nobody will expect me to marry Lord Mordern then, for surely having my husband become my step-uncle in one fell swoop would be too much for anybody to accept.

Her unhappy thoughts were interrupted by Mordern himself who appeared at her side as soundlessly as a ghost. Considering the unfortunate direction of her thoughts, Johanna jumped at the sight of him standing so suddenly at her elbow.

‘Oh! Lord Mordern, you startled me.’

‘My dear Miss Claybourn, not for the world would I discommode you,’ he returned quietly, his eyes resting on her face in that disturbing manner that always made her feel uncomfortable. It might have been her imagination, but there seemed to be a disconcerting hunger there that made her feel underdressed, even when she was covered from head to toe. ‘You look very beautiful tonight.’

‘Why thank you Sir, but I cannot hold a candle to your sister,’ she returned quietly. ‘She is quite dazzling, don’t you think?’

Mordern’s gaze shifted to Celine who was still making up quite shamelessly to their host. Johanna thought she caught a flicker of annoyance cross his face but it was gone in an instant.

‘She looks delightful, but she is not up to your standard, my dear,’ he observed with a shake of the head. ‘Fond as I am of my sister, she would be the first to admit that the moon must give way to the sun.’

This piece of nonsensical sophistry did not find any favor with Johanna but she was reprieved from giving any answer by the entrance of Lord Hathaway who immediately came over to offer her a bow and Mordern a far from friendly look.

‘Good evening, Miss Claybourn,’ he said pleasantly, then added in a far less friendly tone, ‘Mordern.’

‘Lord Hathaway,’ Mordern said affably, apparently indifferent to the new arrival’s obvious dislike. ‘You appear to have changed your mind about staying. How unexpected. Did you decide a soft bed was preferable to a set of badly aired sheets?’

‘No,’ Hathaway returned shortly. ‘I decided to expand upon my acquaintance with Miss Claybourn.’

‘Indeed?’ the man said, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at Johanna and gave her a little smile. ‘Another conquest, my dear. How you do ensnare us.’

‘I certainly don’t mean to, I can assure you,’ she retorted, before remembering that she was playing the part of hapless heroine in this particular drama. She lowered her eyes and bit her lip. ‘Shall we join Papa?’

Her father turned to greet them warmly, expressing his pleasure that Hathaway could postpone his journey to spend the night with them. ‘For truthfully, I was reluctant to let you go after your service to my daughter, especially as it is growing late.’

‘It was good of you to offer your hospitality,’ his lordship said, glancing around. ‘Your mother-in-law is not joining us, Sir Antony?’

‘She gets tired in the evening and likes to go to bed early,’ Sir Antony returned, his eyes returning to Mrs. Gibson as if unable to look away. ‘Most nights she takes supper in her rooms. We are quite a small party tonight, I’m afraid to say. I trust you will not be bored, my dear.’ This was
not
addressed to Lord Hathaway but at the charming widow.

‘Not at all. I adore small parties,’ Celine Gordon said, giving him a warm smile. ‘Conversation is so much easier if one is intimate, don’t you think,
dear
Sir Antony?’

‘I do indeed.’ He held out an elbow. ‘Shall we, dear lady?’

‘Why thank you, kind Sir.’

Johanna watched her father sail out of the room, Mrs. Gordon attached to his arm like a limpet.
What on earth is going on here?
Her father seemed to be positively strutting, like a cockerel preparing to crow. And her father never crowed, he was more inclined to anxiously scratch in the dirt.

‘Miss Claybourn?’ Lord Hathaway’s voice, sounded a little peremptory. She looked at the arm that was being extended to her, automatically laying her hand on it. It might reasonably have been expected that there might have been some debate about who might escort her but Lord Hathaway had nipped this in the bud from the outset.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, rather faintly for her thoughts were awhirl. It was becoming increasingly apparent to her that Lord Mordern might be the least of her problems. Was it her imagination or was her father really a great deal more enamored with Celine Gordon than he had been earlier in the day? Certainly, he had made no secret of the fact that he admired her from the outset, but he had never actually flirted with her in such an obvious fashion before. Was Johanna missing something of significance?

The moment I look away, that man gets himself into trouble. Good God, cou
ld he really be falling for such an obvious creature?
But the answer was obvious. Mrs. Gordon was a seasoned player when it came to making a man feel good about himself, that much was certain. Her father wouldn’t stand a chance against such obvious tactics. But what was the woman really after?

Dinner was a very odd affair, for her father was abstracted and her companions not in the mood for genial dinner conversation. While Lord Hathaway might be expected to be a little grim after the story she had told him in the stables, the meaningful looks being shared by Celine Gordon and her father were a little too warm for comfort. She had never seen her father so… so ebullient with a fellow guest. He was often jocular, yes, inserting the odd, clumsy joke into the conversation but tonight he seemed to have swelled a little.

Johanna sighed and wondered what she should do if her father was serious about the woman.

‘Is something wrong?’ Lord Hathaway murmured, leaning towards her.

She glanced at him and experienced an unexpected quiver somewhere in the region of her chest at the sight of his face, so close to her own. It was rather a good face; not classically handsome or even moodily Byronesque, in the style she had come to believe she fancied. But it had strong bones, particularly vivid eyes fringed with ridiculously thick lashes and an unexpectedly generous mouth. For a moment, her eyes fixed on that mouth and she had a fleeting image of it taking possession of her own. A flush ran through her body and she swallowed. How very… unexpected.