Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (32 page)

Most of her life, she’d thought she would never wed. She’d loathed the idea so much that she’d been prepared to become a nun to avoid it. Then Chase Hubbard had streaked into her world like a wildfire, and she’d decided she’d love to be a wife.

But that sort of hot, sizzling affection couldn’t last. It had no foundation to sustain a person through good times and bad. She and Lambert shared a history, and while he ignited no searing passion, there would be no surprises with him either.

With him, there would be constancy and steadiness and a firm commitment that would never be broken. Did she need more than that? Did any woman? She didn’t believe so.

“I would like to marry you,” she heard herself say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want to ever leave Heron Hall again. I don’t want Alice to have to leave. You and I will get on fine.”

“Yes, we will,” he said. “I’m so glad about this, Faith.”

“So am I.”

She meant it. At least she assumed she meant it. If there was a small part of her that was grieving over her answer, if there was a soft voice warning her not to proceed, that she’d regret it forever, she didn’t have to heed it.

“Let’s hurry home and tell Alice,” he said.

He slipped his arm into hers and turned them toward Heron Hall.

* * * *

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hubbard?”

Alice smiled at the intriguing man seated across from her. He was very handsome, very dashing, precisely the type of fellow she wished she’d wed instead of her mother foisting her off on aged, foolish Harold Newton.

“I’m a friend of Faith’s,” he said.

“I don’t recall her ever mentioning you. How are you acquainted?”

“We were together in Africa.”

“Oh, yes, now I remember.”

Faith hadn’t referred to Mr. Hubbard by name though, hadn’t explained how remarkable he was, and Alice definitely wondered why not.

“Are you the kind gentleman who paid her fare to England?” Alice asked.

“Yes, that was me, but if Faith described me as
kind
she was being overly generous. She believed I was an ogre the entire trip.”

Alice chuckled, and she leaned forward, gazing at him with her wide, innocent eyes. To her consternation, her posture had no effect on him whatsoever. She was accustomed to men fawning over her, and when he appeared immune she wanted to try harder than ever to entice him.

“Faith is out,” she told him.

“I’m sorry I missed her. When do you expect her back?”

“In two or three days.”

“But she
is
here?”

“Yes, she’s been here for awhile.”

“That’s a relief,” he said.

“Were you worried about her?”

“Yes, I stopped by the convent in Scotland, but she’d left and no one would provide any information about her. I’ve been fretting as to her whereabouts.”

“My, my, you certainly traveled a long distance. Didn’t you say you were from London?”

“Yes.”

“You must intend to speak with her on an important topic.”

“A very important topic,” he admitted.

“May I inquire as to what it is?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Find out what?”

“I’ve come to propose marriage.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

At the disturbing news, Alice shifted and casually glanced out the window.

Lambert and Faith were at the neighbors, and he was planning to propose himself on the way home. They wouldn’t be back for a bit, but she had to get rid of Mr. Hubbard as fast as she could.

She and Lambert were so close—so close!—to convincing Faith to be his bride. Once she said
yes
, Lambert would recommend a quick wedding date. Their fiscal situation was ever more precarious, and they desperately needed Faith’s dowry money. They couldn’t delay another second, and they couldn’t have fascinating, charismatic Chase Hubbard show up at the last minute to ruin their careful scheming.

Alice scowled, appearing incredibly woeful. “Oh, Mr. Hubbard…”

He studied her wounded expression. “What is it?”

“I can’t bear to break it to you.”

“What?” he asked again. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t propose.”

“Why can’t I?”

“She’s already married.”

He blanched as if she’d hit him. “What did you say?”

“She wed her cousin, Lambert.”

“No…” he breathed.

“It happened right after she arrived. She was in an emotional state—I guess she was kicked out of the convent, and—”

“Kicked out?”

“Yes, and she was feeling very low. Lambert always loved her.”

“She talked about him occasionally.”

“In fact, she’s on her honeymoon. It’s why she isn’t here.”

“Her honeymoon?” He grimaced. “Of course she would be. Isn’t that just my luck?”

For a long while, he stared at the floor, then he pushed himself to his feet. She stood too.

“I’d better be going,” he mumbled.

He was so dejected that Alice suffered a spurt of conscience. She hated to realize how deeply she’d hurt him, and she wondered if she shouldn’t confess the truth. But she remembered her financial predicament. Mr. Hubbard couldn’t interfere or jeopardize Alice’s future.

She escorted him to the door, and as the butler handed him his coat and hat, he told Alice, “Tell her I stopped by, would you?”

“I will.”

“And tell her…I’ll write someday.”

Alice frowned. “Should you, Mr. Hubbard? You seem very fond of her. I’m not sure it would be appropriate.”

He pondered, looking positively depressed now. “I probably shouldn’t, but please let her know I wish her happy.”

“I definitely will.”

He left without another word, and she watched him until his horse trotted around the bend in the road and he vanished from view.

She returned to the parlor and dawdled for an hour until she saw Lambert and Faith strolling across the park. They were arm in arm, smiling so merrily that Alice could only assume Lambert had tendered his proposal and it had been accepted.

She went to the sofa and sat, struggling to relax, to calm her raging sentiments. Fate was so fickle. What if Mr. Hubbard had come a bit later? What if Faith had been present to meet with him? The notion didn’t bear contemplating.

Shortly the betrothed pair entered the house, and Alice listened as they neared.

“You two are quite jolly,” was her greeting as they walked in. “What mischief has you grinning like the cat that got in the cream?”

“Alice,” Lambert gushed, “I have marvelous news.”

“What is it?”

“Faith and I have decided to marry.”

“No!” she gasped. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very, very serious. I asked her in the woods and she said
yes
.”

“You sly rascal! I wasn’t aware that you were considering it.”

Alice rose and kissed Faith on the cheek. “I’m delighted, Faith.”

“My head is still spinning,” Faith replied. “I can’t believe I agreed.”

“I can’t either,” Lambert said.

They laughed, but Faith’s was a tad forced.

“It’s what your father prayed for,” Alice told Faith.

“I know.”

“And this way, we won’t have to have Lambert chasing after strange girls in London!”

Faith smirked. “I’ve saved us from that calamity at least.”

Lambert was standing behind Faith, and he wiggled his brows, wanting Alice to recognize how excited he was. Everything would be fine.

“When is the wedding to be?” Alice asked.

“We haven’t picked a date,” Faith said.

“I think it should be immediately,” Alice hastily suggested.

“A splendid idea,” Lambert concurred. “Why delay, hmm?”

“What’s your opinion, Faith?” Alice inquired. “Lambert could ride to town and procure a Special License.”

Was there a hesitation in Faith’s response? “Yes, I suppose that would work.”

“Today is Friday,” Lambert said. “We could hold the ceremony next Friday. That will give me plenty of time to get to town and back without hurrying too much, and it will give you a chance to plan a breakfast and invite some of the neighbors.”

Alice beamed. “Oh, that sounds thrilling. A party! How nice.”

“Yes,” Faith blandly said. “How nice.”

“Now then,” Alice said to Lambert, “why don’t you leave us? We have a thousand topics to discuss.”

“Yes, I’m certain you do.” He clasped Faith’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll see you at supper.”

“Yes, I’ll see you then.”

He departed, and Alice drew Faith over to the sofa. She snuggled near and murmured, “I’ve been on pins and needles all afternoon. I couldn’t wait for you to return.”

“Why?”

“While you were out, you had a visitor.”

“
I
had a visitor?”

“Yes, a Mr. Hubbard from London.”

For a few seconds, Faith was very still, her expression unreadable, then she scowled. “What did he want?”

Alice bristled with indignation. “He wanted you to reward him for bringing you to England.”

“He…what?”

“He said you’d cost him a pretty penny, and with your father being so rich, he ought to be compensated for his efforts on your behalf.”

“You’re joking.”

“I never heard such a mercenary speech in my life.”

At Alice’s lie, Faith looked so dejected, even more dejected than Mr. Hubbard had been—if that was possible.

“I can’t believe he came here,” Faith said. “I can’t believe he asked for money.”

“He seemed rather unsavory.”

Faith glanced away. “He was, he is.”

“I told him to stuff it!”

“Thank you, Alice.”

“He claimed he wasn’t finished with us though. He threatened to send us a bill for the amount, and I informed him if he wrote, we wouldn’t open the letter. We’d simply toss it in the fire.” Nervously she fiddled with her skirt. “Was it the correct reply, Faith? You know how confused I get.”

“You handled him precisely as he should have been handled.”

“I was glad you weren’t home to listen to his drivel in person.”

“I’m glad too, and now that he’s been denied payment, I’m sure he won’t pester us again.”

“I’m sure he won’t either,” Alice said.

Faith staggered to her feet. “I realize you were hoping to talk about the wedding, but I’m awfully fatigued. Would you mind terribly if I took a nap?”

“No, no, you go ahead.”

“We can discuss it after supper.”

Faith spun and stumbled out, and Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

Poor Faith! Poor Mr. Hubbard!

They almost made Alice yearn to be a romantic at heart so she could pity them, but she wasn’t a romantic. Her wants and wishes always came first, and her most fervid wish was that Faith would marry Lambert immediately. Faith could no more avoid it than she could coax the stars to fall from the sky.

Alice skipped to the sideboard and grabbed the brandy. A celebration was appropriate. She filled a tall glass, toasted her shrewd manipulation, and drank down the libation in one quick gulp.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Am I hallucinating?”

Ralston stared around Chase’s London parlor, wondering if he hadn’t forgotten his address and entered the wrong apartment. A female chorus of, “Mr. Robertson!” and “Ralston!” greeted him.

Mary, Martha, and Millicent MacKenzie raced over, bumping into him so hard they nearly knocked him down. Then Rowena was there too, kissing him and crying—Rowena crying!—as if the world was about to end.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, definitely feeling as if he was dreaming.

Again, he was greeted by a garbled chorus of “We ran away,” and “I missed you so much,” and “The convent was horrid,” and “We didn’t think you’d ever arrive!”

He’d been to the country to visit his family, and he’d stayed an entire month when he’d only meant to stay two weeks. But it had been so grand to be coddled and indulged that he’d selfishly dawdled and allowed himself to be pampered.

He dropped his portmanteau on the floor and hugged everyone as ferociously as he could.

“Why are you crying?” he managed to ask Rowena when he came up for air.

“I’m so glad to see you!”

“If you’re glad, you shouldn’t be crying. You should be celebrating!”

He knelt in front of the girls, and they were just as pretty as he remembered. He ruffled curls and kissed cheeks.

“All of you grew while you were away,” he scolded. “You weren’t supposed to grow!”

“We couldn’t help it,” Mary said. “It just happened.”

“You couldn’t stop?”

“No. And guess what?”

“What?”

“Millie can talk again.”

“She can?” He grinned at her. “Say something for me.”

“Where have you been?” she replied, and when she grinned too, there was a gap in her smile.

“You lost a tooth!” he crowed.

“I have it in my pocket.”

“Show me.”

She pulled it out, but wouldn’t let him touch it.

“What made you talk?” he asked her.

Mary answered for her. “It was a miracle.”

“What sort of miracle?”

“She saw Mr. Hubbard in Scotland, and the words she’d been holding in gushed out. Now she chatters every single second.”

He stood and asked Rowena, “Is Chase here?”

“No, and you won’t believe what’s occurred.”

“What? He’s not in trouble, is he? When I left, there was a creditor chasing him. Please don’t tell me I have to post his bail.”

“It wasn’t a creditor.”

“Who was it then?”

“A lawyer’s clerk.”

In Ralston’s book, no lawyer ever brought good news. “Why was a lawyer after him?”

“Sit down,” she said. “Let me feed you, then you can hear the whole story.”

Rowena was a terrible cook, but he could hardly refuse. He relaxed while she bustled around. The conversation was lively, the girls animated and fun, and Rowena alternated between weeping and laughing.

She kept rubbing his shoulders, squeezing his arm, as if she was afraid—should she look the other way—he might vanish.

“It seems as if we were parted for years,” she said. “You haven’t changed your mind about me, have you?”

“Are you mad? Of course I haven’t changed my mind.”

“You’ll still marry me?”