The Maiden At Midnight

The Maiden At
Midnight

Kate Harper

Copyright Kate Harper@2012

www.kate-harper.com

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Chapter One

‘I say, you haven’t gone to sleep on me,
have you?’

Harry Chambers opened an
eye, turning his head to peer at his friend for a moment before
closing it again. It was safe to say that both he and Jocelyn,
sixth earl of Stornley, were well gone, having made indentures into
some very fine claret for the last hour. But he wasn’t
that
drunk. Having
explained his grand plan, Joss had waited for Harry’s response but
Harry knew perfectly well his friend was handing him a bag of
moonshine.

‘I think that is the most ridiculous thing
you have ever come up with and if you’re serious, which I very much
doubt, I am having no part of it.’ Harry was pleased that he could
enunciate so clearly. Pleased and surprised. Perhaps he wasn’t so
far gone as he thought. ‘Ridiculous,’ he repeated, trying to put as
much firmness as possible into that one word. Sometimes being firm
worked. Sometimes his friend actually listened to him and decided
that maybe, just maybe, he was acting like an ass.

‘No, but really, it makes sense.’

This was so patently absurd that Harry was
forced to open both eyes the better to stare at Joss incredulously.
‘You’re drunk as a wheelbarrow. Nothing makes sense!’

His companion raised his
glass and took a long draught, gaze remaining on his oldest friend
as he upended the contents into his mouth with slow deliberation.
Harry shook his head. Usually he did better than this. Usually he
was the sensible one, offering suggestions or, as was more
frequently required of late, bucket loads of sympathy. But Joss had
seemed at the top of his game when they had met up at White’s.
Whatever troublesome humors had plagued his friend of late appeared
to have been forgotten and Harry had been lulled into thinking that
things had somehow turned around for Joss and so had joined him in
a bottle of claret. From there they had moved on to Madeira and
then they had both performed the most miraculous vanishing trick on
a very fine bottle of brandy. That had progressed on to
another
bottle of claret,
thus coming full circle. To say that each of them was fuddled would
not have been an exaggeration. Somewhere along the line, they had
made their way to Lady Darnley’s masquerade ball in
Kensington.

He heard Joss’s heavy sigh and felt a bit of
a swine. He understood Stornley’s desperation, for things had
certainly not been going his way of late, but the plan that Joss
had outlined bordered on lunacy.

‘
I’m in a hole, Harry. We
both know it. I need to come up with the blunt before next week or
the gull gropers will have my balls on a platter. Or rather,
Gallows Jack will. He made that perfectly clear during our last
conversation. And if I can’t come up with it myself, I have to have
prospects that are tangible. Which is why we’re here
tonight.’

‘I thought we came for the dancing.’

‘We’re horrible dancers.’

‘True.’ Harry relapsed into silence, trying
to get his brain to clear enough to come up with something useful.
‘You can apply to the estate. If the trustees know of your plight
they will do something.’

‘Old Beenak and that
milksop Wilkins?’ Joss scowled, ‘Oh they’d
do
something all right. Prosy old
fools would read me a book of sermons and tell me what a
disappointment I am.’ He gave a sharp crack of laughter. ‘As if I
didn’t know
that
.’

‘The point is Joss, they’d bail you
out.’

‘I’ll bail myself out, thank you very much.
This plan is foolproof, which,’ he hiccupped, ‘is just as well as
I’m a damned fool.’

‘You are,’ Harry agreed,
‘to have come up with this… this…’ he paused, trying to think of a
word that summed up the enormity of just how foolish he thought
this mad plan was, but it was too much from him. He was familiar
with his friend’s moods, having known him since they were at Eton
together and he was inclined to be… well, lunatic seemed to sum it
up. Joss was typical of all the Stornleys’; feckless, intemperate
and inclined to bouts of mild insanity. But this…this was Bedlam
territory indeed. ‘Let’s just leave.’
Before you make a scene we’ll both regret
. Harry knew he was too drunk to put a good face on
anything
too
dreadful.

Joss gave a stubborn shake of the head.
‘Face facts, Harry. I’m up the river tick and my boat is sinking
fast.’

Harry nodded, accepting this. It was true
enough. ‘But even so -’

‘Even so, that chit over there,’ Joss waved
a vague hand in the general direction of the busy dance floor, a
place neither of them was sober enough to negotiate, ‘is just the
paddle I need. I’m going to go ahead with this. And I want you to
help me. What d’you say?’

Harry stared at Joss for a long moment
before looking down at the crowded room. A masquerade ball was a
popular social event and it was widely known that Lady Darnley
provided excellent refreshments, which made her rooms the place to
be. ‘Which one is she?’ He didn’t really want to know but morbid
curiosity urged him on.

‘Over there. My future bride. Red domino.
Can’t miss her.’

It was an understatement of monumental
proportions – there were a lot of dominos, both red and otherwise
in the room – but Harry spotted what he thought was the right one.
‘Blue dress?’

‘Blue?’ Joss peered down at the gown
doubtfully. ‘Really? More of a green, I’d say.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever it may be,
my dear fool, is she the one standing near that monstrosity in
orange velvet?’

‘That monstrosity is her aunt, Mrs. Elise
Fortnum. Ghastly woman. I had to make nice to her when I paid a
morning call the other day, which, I might add, was hellish. I am
not cut out for the niceties, Harry.’

‘No one is, but we do it anyway.’ Harry
muttered, eyeing the slender figure standing beside the rotund one
in the biliously offensive gown.

Now that he thought about it, he’d seen
Alora Piedmont before, just three nights ago at the Clarington
Ball. Somebody had pointed her out as the Season’s catch and Harry
had looked her over with casual interest. He wasn’t after catching
anybody himself, as yet. He was working on a fledging occupation as
a womanizer; one that he hoped would blossom into a distinguished
career. Plenty of time to settle down with one female in a decade
or so. When the time came, he could reasonably expect to offer his
choice of bride a pleasant enough lifestyle. He stood to gain a
fortune when his miserable, unmarried and increasingly sickly uncle
finally kicked off this mortal coil. Sickly or not, Harry was fast
coming to believe the man would outlast him. Uncle Percival was a
deuced stubborn devil with no liking for his nephew. He would
probably cling obstinately to life for years yet, no matter what
the old man’s doctors said to the contrary. Still, his
circumstances were well known and his address agreeable enough to
make him a popular guest. And young ladies found him very pleasing,
for a fortune in waiting was still a fortune. He squinted down at
the girl again. Clearly, Miss Piedmont did not take after her aunt
for she was quite the beauty. Her looks were a happy accompaniment
to the fact that she came with a dowry of truly staggering
proportions. The knowledge had made her very popular, so much so
that Joss had decided to cut to the chase (after that uncomfortable
morning call) and forego the wooing phase in favor of moving
directly on to the marriage. His plan was simple in the
extreme.

Kidnap Miss Piedmont.

Take Miss Piedmont to Gretna Green with all
speed.

Marry Miss Piedmont.

If he married her he would not only gain
access to her impressive dowry, but fulfill the tiresome
requirement that had been such a facer when he had heard that his
father had left an entail on his estate. Until his marriage, the
bulk of the estate’s funds were held by two trustees, both elderly
and, in Joss’s opinion, infuriatingly uncompromising. At three and
twenty Joss did not want to get married but needs must when the
devil drives. His unfortunate tendency to bet on any nag that could
possibly lose a race coupled with a penchant for loo had led to an
unhealthy relationship with an unsavory moneylender who had decided
he would like to be repaid sooner rather than later. These
circumstances had convinced the earl that marriage loomed large in
his future. Besides, after laying eyes on Alora Piedmont, he had
become far more enthusiastic than he had previously been.

‘Miss Piedmont seems like a nice enough
girl,’ Harry conceded, after due consideration, ‘from what I can
see. I haven’t actually met her, you know. But I still cannot
support the notion of abducting her.’

‘Why not?’

‘We-ll… It’s unlawful, it’s
unfair and it will deprive the poor girl of a ceremony.
All
girls like a
ceremony. With… with a new dress and – uh – flowers. Lots of
flowers. Well known fact. Besides, it’s likely to land you in more
trouble than even
you
can wiggle out of. Don’t get me wrong, my friend. I’m all for
you getting buckled and settling down. Leave more delightful
fillies for me and it
might
just put some sense into you. But this is not the
way to do it. It’d look deuced bad.’

‘She isn’t indifferent to me,’ Joss
insisted, ‘she was all over making eyes at me at the Endicott ball
and she did the sort of thing that girls do when they like a
fellow.’

‘What thing?’

‘Color up. Blush, if you would. Looked
rather well on her, actually. Dammit Harry, I like the girl!’

‘Well that’s just fine then,’ Harry said
stoutly. ‘Sounds like she’ll take you. Problem solved. You’re an
earl, for God’s sake. Family can’t object.’

‘The aunt doesn’t care for me. I can
tell.’

‘Pfst! The aunt… she’ll come round. What’s
she hanging out for, anyway? A duke? Your family, your estate…
Devil take it Joss, even you have much to recommend when you’re not
being completely boneheaded.’

Joss grinned. ‘Why thank you!’

‘Do not thank me. I am not helping you steal
the chit. It’s crackbrained in the extreme. Do it the right
way.’

The two men stared at each other. Harry had
stood beside Joss in times on crisis on countless occasions. And
there had been plenty of them, thanks to Joss’s habit of falling
foul of life. No matter what he said, his lordship found it hard to
believe that Harry would abandon him now. Admittedly, Harry
Carstairs was inclined to be the sensible one, likely to see the
pitfalls and the problems in a situation. Not that he didn’t get
into his own scrapes, but they were the kind he usually managed to
extract himself from without too much effort. Even so, Joss thought
fretfully; it was always pitfalls and problems with Harry. And he
really did seem steadfast in his unwillingness to assist in this,
Joss’ most daring adventure.

‘So you won’t help me?’

‘No,’ Harry agreed
owlishly, ‘I will not. Apart from anything else, I am amazingly
drunk and I doubt that I could carry it off. Whatever
it
is. What was to be my
part in this?’

‘Waiting with the carriage. I was planning
on exiting through a side door.’

‘Oh,
that
would have gone well, me
piloting a vehicle.’ Harry rose and stood swaying precariously on
the balls of his feet. ‘I’m off. And I think you should come along
with me. Tomorrow we can come up with something better.’

‘I might wait here for a time. If I manage
to sober up, I’ll ask Miss Piedmont to dance.’

‘Really?’ Harry eyed Joss
doubtfully, ‘you’re planning on dancing with her? You’d need to do
a
lot
of sobering
up.’