The Honorable Marksley (7 page)

“Nonsense” Richard coaxed Apollo into a trot, compelling Jeremy to struggle to catch up. “You might
remind yourself that your stated purpose in visiting is
to locate your precious yellow nymph, not to play
matchmaker. Reggie and Uncle Ashton have been
effective enough in that sphere, thank you very much.
If you truly wish to earn your room and board, milord,
you will apply yourself to defeating their schemes” He
turned to blaze at Jeremy, “Why on earth did you sit
there and extol my few virtues to Ashton? You should
have been persuading him that I’m the last man he
should want for his niece!”

“I thought to reassure him, my dear chap, as you
treated us to few words and a stony face for near an
hour. Why, the old goat knew nothing of The Tantalus!
I sought only to enlighten him. Can you blame me for
choosing to sing your praises, with him glaring at you
as though you were Lucifer’s spawn?”

“Yes,” Richard snapped. “I asked for your help. You
understand the situation. Anyone would think you want
me to marry-” Instantly, he fixed Jeremy with an
accusing stare. “That’s it, isn’t it, you sneak of a turncoat. The wench is enceinte and you have decided to
make me a papa”

Jeremy, magnificent in his violet satin waistcoat and
billowing fountain of a cravat, drew himself up in the
saddle. His nose reached an exaggerated height. “That
is beneath you, Richard. Hallie Ashton is a lady, incapable of that … of such conduct. She is as blameless in
this as you are. I demand an apology-or satisfaction.”

Richard surveyed him, in all his glorious indignation, and had to smile. “Easy, my friend. As you might
imagine, I have had quite enough of Ashtons and
Marksleys. The possibility of one more could not be
overlooked.”

“In Hallie’s case it must be”

“Then I stand corrected, Jeremy. As I now know you
for her champion,” he added, “I shall refrain from such
charges. No doubt Miss Ashton does indeed share
Reggie’s interest in-what was it? Land reform. Yes,
land reform”

“Cut line, Richard,” Jeremy said. “You make it irritatingly clear that you do not want Miss Ashton. But
you should remind yourself of the corollary. Miss
Ashton does not want you.”

“She wants a lord.”

“She wants no one.”

Richard fell silent. If that were true, he should not feel so incomprehensibly vexed. Jeremy was being less
than candid, a difference in him that could only be
traced to Hallie Ashton. The woman had to be hiding
something; females did not huddle with the Viscount
Langsford to discuss agriculture.

“Jeremy, you are always welcome at Archers. But
perhaps we should not mention Miss Ashton again.”

“As you wish.” There was a marked chill in Jeremy’s
voice. “Would you prefer that I move on?”

“No, I do not prefer. I merely choose to avoid the
subject of Miss Ashton”

“That might be a bit of a challenge. Had you forgotten that we are joining the ladies for a drive Saturday?”

With a frustrated glance at Jeremy, Richard swore
softly and spurred Apollo ahead.

Hallie had been ready for some time. After dismissing the Countess’s abigail, who had fussed over a reluctant charge’s limited wardrobe and equally limited
patience, she had sought one of the private sitting
rooms at the front of Penham Hall. There she attempted to write in her journal, a habit that had been neglected shamefully over the past week. Yet even with
quiet and the best of intentions, she found she could not
concentrate.

The hard little knot of an idea, the very beginnings
of a poem, resisted the plucking necessary to untangle
it. As a result the pages held half-starts and broken
fragments of phrases, hinting at the whole, but not yet
forming a smooth fabric of thought and feeling.

She knew why she could not work. For the twentieth time within as many minutes, her gaze escaped to the
drive, where she anticipated Richard Marksley. The
man thought her little better than a lightskirt; even if
she were the most proper young woman in England, he
would still question everything about her. Yet she sat
here watching for him. To be judged so harshly, and by
Richard Marksley of all people, was galling.

Abruptly she rose and turned away from the window.
At least she would have the satisfaction of delivering
her message to Jeremy. Her uncle and Millicent might
keep her a virtual prisoner, but she had thought of a
way out of this trap. She had every intention of leaving
the country.

She had enough money for passage to Ireland, or
even perhaps to America, if she were to tap Henry
Beecham’s tidy sum. Marksley had stressed to
Beecham in more than one letter that the poet could
claim his earnings at any bank with a signature and his
letters of credit. Hallie had not needed the money; she
could not have invested it and her uncle would have
noticed unusual spending in any event. She had feared
as well that by claiming the funds she would reveal her
identity to Marksley. She had even thought of the payments as bait.

Now she would snap at that lure. But she had devised
a means to have someone else-a man-obtain her
proceeds for her. She had determined to ask George.

George Partridge had last stopped to see her three
months before in Berkshire. A renowned linguist and
mutual friend of hers and Jeremy’s, George had traveled widely, researching the world’s unique tongues. She
believed he was now transcribing the Romany speech of
the country’s gypsies, though she had no inkling as to his
location. She must trust Jeremy to find their friend and
deliver her message. George, she knew, would have no
difficulty in copying her signature as “Henry Beecham”
George could imitate any accent and any hand.

Hallie convinced herself that George would be
happy to do this small favor. She had, after all, persuaded him to send one of his articles on language to
Marksley and The Tantalus. He had found an admiring
audience, as she had known he would.

She looked again at the drive. It was troubling to discover how easily she had learned to identify Richard
Marksley even from a distance. Something in the set of
his shoulders distinguished him from Jeremy and all
others.

She took her time collecting her things and returning
them to her room. Once she had donned her pelisse and
gathered a bonnet she knew she was more than acceptably late, but the recognition did not prompt her to
hurry. She had so few days left, so little time; she could
not bear to rush the minutes. She did not question that
she thought in terms of time left with Marksley.

Millicent Binkin met her in the foyer. Hallie had
scarcely addressed a word to the woman since the disastrous intrusion at the Tewsbury inn. Yet Millicent did
not seem to resent Hallie’s uncivil silence, nor to feel
any regret for committing her young cousin in such a
questionable manner.

“You have certainly dawdled, missy. Although, given
the sorry state of your wardrobe, one would hardly
credit it. You must remind me to help you select several new day gowns. You look a proper dowd”

“The gentlemen will hardly wish for my company,
then,” Hallie said. “I shall leave you to them” She
started to turn away, but Millicent grasped her arm.

“My dear,” she said repressively, “These theatrics
are childish. You must remember that all of one’s
actions have consequences. Neither I nor the gentlemen
outside desired this situation.”

“And that you know to be a lie, Millicent,” Hallie
retorted, chafing at the too-tight grip on her arm. “Why
are you permitting this sham to continue? Why compel
Richard Marksley to stand for his cousin?”

“You were irretrievably compromised-”

“Only in your eyes, dear cousin. You were both
source and sound. You know you have much to answer
for in all this. When Reginald Marksley returns you
shall appear quite ridiculous.”

“You are not usually dimwitted, Harriet. Had I
believed for one moment that the Viscount would claim
you, I would never have settled for Mr. Richard.”

“You would not! Millicent, you take too much upon
yourself. This is none of your affair.”

“But it is, my dear.” And her cousin’s glance was
sharp. “I have ensured an acceptable match for you. An
eminently acceptable match. You were in a fair way to
being overlooked. No season, no prospects. Only your endless scribblings. Now you will be established, and
very well at that”

It was unseemly, to be arguing here in the foyer, with
their escorts mere feet beyond the door. Yet to have
Millicent Binkin so openly confess her scheming, without regret or shame, was more than Hallie could abide.

“We will discuss this later, Millicent,” she managed,
twisting free of her cousin’s clutch. “It is outrageous
that you would let all of us live this lie. I shall most certainly tell uncle”

“But he already knows, dear,” Millicent said.

Hallie clenched her fists. She had not known she was
such a drain on her uncle’s household as to be foisted
like chattel upon a stranger. She did know she was
shaking, but she could not seem to stop.

The front door opened abruptly to Richard Marksley.
Hallie could feel some force in him of anger or impatience. That consciousness made her tremble all the
more.

“Ladies” Though his dark gaze revealed little, Hallie
had the distinct impression that he had overheard them.
“Are you ready to set out?”

“Thank you, Mr. Marksley. We are indeed.”
Millicent stalked on through the door, her short, stout
figure squeezed into an unflattering patterned muslin.
Hallie glanced up at Richard Marksley’s face, to find
him coldly eyeing Millicent Binkin’s retreating back.

“I believe you are unlucky in your relations,” he said,
for her ears alone, and Hallie again suspected he had heard that conversation. Though he continued to look
grim, he offered her his arm. “Shall we attempt once
more to make the best of things?”

“I … prefer to stay in this afternoon”

One dark eyebrow arched.

“Never tell me you are a coward, m’dear. Are you as
averse to high-steppers and speed as I suspect your
cousin to be?”

Hallie, still shaky, let her hand seek his sleeve. She
was grateful for his support. And she was grateful for
something more. It pleased her to think he could share
her dislike for Millicent Binkin. They were partners in
that, if in nothing else.

In the drive, Jeremy was just helping Millicent into
the back of the barouche, an exercise in agility that displayed neither to graceful advantage. As only Jeremy’s
horse stood saddled nearby, Hallie surmised that
Richard Marksley intended to drive.

“I thought you might choose to ride up with me,” he
said. “The Earl’s team is spirited but responsive. If you
are so inclined, you might like a turn at the ribbons.”

Hallie readily agreed to sit forward with him, something she would have preferred over Millicent’s company in any event. As Marksley took her hand to help
her up, Hallie felt the warmth of his own, even through
their gloves. She bit her lower lip as she concentrated
on her footing.

“Miss Ashton is a remarkable hand,” Millicent supplied unbidden. “And she has been riding from the time
she could walk. She is esteemed quite a horsewoman”

“Indeed?” Marksley murmured. Millicent’s isolation
in back had been intended. At the moment, Hallie
wished her cousin further-somewhere near the ends
of the earth.

As Marksley took his seat beside her, Hallie realized
she was holding her breath. She willed herself to
breathe easily, and glanced over at Jeremy.

“You prefer the saddle, Lord Jeremy?”

“If I am not invited to drive, Miss Harriet. I suspect
Richard would be less indulgent were I his passenger.”

“Only too correct, Jeremy. You would have Penham’s
cattle in the ditch before permitting another vehicle by
you.”

“Oh come, Richard. I am not that demonic. And the
traffic out here in the country is nothing to speak of.”

“Truly, Jeremy? And what would you call that lumbering contraption ahead of us?”

Jeremy made play of peering at a monstrous hay cart
in the lane beyond the gates.

“Demme, if it ain’t a thatched cottage. Well,
Richard, if you aim to amble along behind that all
afternoon, you may drive with my blessing.” Jeremy
dropped back to engage Millicent politely in some
tedious twaddle about the countryside.

The carriage easily passed the hay cart and moved
beyond neatly scythed fields and the occasional pasture
of sheep. The sun was bright, the afternoon unexpectedly balmy.

Hallie, conscious that she had much to say but little
inclination to speak, concentrated on watching the horses and Marksley’s capable hands on the reins. At
times her attention strayed to his profile. He had wellcast features, a firm jaw, a fine nose. Though she decided he could not claim to be as gorgeous as his celebrated cousin, he had a manly refinement that was attractive. Combined with the confidence that seemed characteristic, he was a compelling gentleman. He had to be
for her to find his face so intriguing.