The Maiden At Midnight (15 page)

Sir Ainslie Struthers had been in the same
situation as Joss, except that his debt had been a deal less. Used
to owning money to all manner of people, he had not been too fussed
about paying Gallows Jack back, until one night, he had been
returning home from his club and had been waylaid. He had survived,
of course, for dead men did not pay their debts. But his arm had
been broken so severely that his days of fencing at Angelo’s had
become a thing of the past.

Joss hesitated. He was no coward, not by a
long shot, but he rather fancied the use of all of his limbs and
Gallows Jack was not the type who enjoyed a fair fight. ‘Oh very
well! Let me get that book and then we will be gone. And Bess?’ The
girl looked at him enquiringly, ‘if you need me, just tell
Henderson to send word around to Harry’s place. Do you
understand?’

‘Yessir. That I will, sir.’

Book found, they decided to exit out the
back door once more. His lordship led the way through the rear
garden.

‘There’s a gate, leads into a laneway,’ he
explained, ‘less likely to be spotted if we leave that way.’

Harry wondered why they hadn’t come this way
on arrival, thereby avoiding Curzon Street altogether but there was
no point in asking. Even when the earl wasn’t caught up in the
finer aspects of romance, he was singularly vague. Now that Cupid
had hit him so hard, he had no more than one foot precariously
perched in the real world, as far as Harry could tell.

There was a solid wooden gate set into a
stone-wall at the rear of the yard, inset with a wrought iron ring
to open it. Just as Joss reached out a hand to seize it, it turned
of its own accord and the gate opened, revealing one of the ugliest
faces that Harry had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. It was
clearly the face of a boxer, for the nose had been squashed to one
side and one ear had taken on that cauliflower look that indicated
repeated mistreatment. His brow was so low that it threatened to
swallow his eyebrows completely. His enormous figure dwarfed the
gateway for he had to stoop his upper body considerably to fit
through the six-foot entryway. Behind him, could be seen a fellow
of equally enormous proportions, craning his neck to see what the
delay was.

For a moment, time seemed to be suspended as
those involved in the encounter shared a look. Then Joss
scowled.

‘I say!’ he snapped. ‘Are you the fellows
that have been upsetting my people?’

‘Mr. Gallows wants a word with you,’ the low
browed specimen growled, moving forward.

Behind his lordship, Harry sighed. He put a
hand on his friend’s shoulder, drawing him back gently. ‘A little
crowded right here, wouldn’t you say? We need some room for
this.’

‘Some room?’ Joss repeated, a little
bemused.

‘Indeed. You are under invasion, Stornley.
We need to defend the walls.’

And Harry shrugged out of his coat, folding
it carefully and laying it on a nearby bench before he and Joss set
to.

Chapter Seven

The much anticipated event given by Lady
Morvyn did take place in part in her elegant, spacious garden for
the weather had remained fair and, while there was a slight nip in
the air, it was scented with flowers for she had opened the
multitude of French doors that led onto the terrace, bringing the
outside in. Guests were welcome to wander the lamp lit pathways,
remain dancing in the great ballroom or take the air out upon the
terrace.

It was on the terrace that a charming
picture could be found in the shape of Miss Piedmont and Miss
Hathaway, strolling arm in arm. These two glorious angels (as one
much struck gentlemen observed) looked quite delightful together,
fair heads close as they conversed. One youth, catching sight of
them, immediately retreated into the depths of the garden to
compose a sonnet to their ethereal beauty while several unrepentant
rakes, watching the pair, sincerely regretted that such diamonds of
the first water weren’t easily seduced into sin.

‘Did you see Clarice Allenby look at me just
now?’ Alora murmured as they progressed along. ‘The look on her
face! She dislikes me intensely, you know, although I am sure I
have done nothing to offend her.’

‘Your looks and your wealth are very
offensive to some, Alora.’

‘That is hardly my fault. I have always
taken great pains to be pleasant to her.’

‘She would be happier if you put a bag on
your head.’

Alora gave a spurt of laughter. ‘Do you know
what I like about you the most, Isabella? You say the most
unexpected things.’

Isabella blinked. Her
thoughtless tongue had always been one of the things that people
did
not
like about
her. It was odd to have somebody say otherwise. ‘I am a little too
forthright,’ she said hesitantly, ‘and if I offend you, please say
so. I warn you now, I am inclined to forget myself when I relax
around people.’

‘Please continue to relax
around me,’ Alora begged her. ‘It is so refreshing to actually have
somebody say what they think for a change. Everybody is always so
careful
not
to say
things, don’t you think? I spend far too much time wondering what
people are really trying to say whereas with you, I know
exactly.’

It was Isabella’s turn to
laugh. ‘At least you consider that a good thing.’ Looking over, she
caught site of the Earl of Stornley and Mr. Carstairs as they
stepped onto the terrace.
And about time
to
, she thought grimly. Fending off
prospective suitors had proved to be quite exhausting. She feared
she was getting a reputation as a gorgon, repelling the hopefuls
that had attempted to engage with Miss Piedmont but Isabella was
nothing if not determined.

‘Oh look,’ she said now with artful
surprise, ‘it is the Earl of Stornley.’

‘And Mr. Carstairs,’ Alora murmured, but her
eyes were all for his lordship as warm color stained her
cheeks.

His lordship had already
spied his quarry and was moving towards them, Mr. Carstairs in tow.
Isabella let her eyes linger on the tall figure behind Stornley for
a moment and allowed for the fact that he was looking very well
tonight. It was actually rather irritating, that she found him so
attractive. Indeed, she would much prefer not to, for she did not
like him in the least. Good looking, dark haired men, she reflected
wryly. Willett had been equally appealing and look how well
he
had turned out. No,
mutual tolerance and understanding were what she was after in a
husband, not dark good looks. There was certainly something about
Harry Carstairs that rubbed her up the wrong way and she suspected
it was mutual, for
he
seemed to be continually exasperated with
her
. Luckily, he was not on the
agenda, husband-wise, for he would be completely unsuitable in
every way.

His lordship came to a stop before them and
smiled; the type of smile that a man well in the throws of love
produces when in the presence of his beloved. A little foolish, in
fact. Both Isabella and Alora gasped when they took in both men’s
faces for a large bruise discolored his lordship’s chin while Mr.
Carstairs eye was distinctly black.

‘Your face!’ Miss Piedmont gasped.

‘What, this? It’s nothing,’ Stornley assured
her cheerfully. ‘You are looking positively radiant tonight, if I
may say so.’

‘But what happened?’ her
wide blue eyes travelled to Carstairs, ‘to
both
of you?’

‘Well -’ Stornley began.

‘Pugilism,’ Harry deadpanned, ‘a very manly
sport. We indulged ourselves yesterday afternoon.’

‘Excuse me?’ Isabella was studying Mr.
Carstairs shiner with interest. She had seen one or two as Marcus
did love to get into a dustup and this one was really quite
impressive. The swelling and discoloration were beginning to emerge
nicely and there was more to come, she guessed. In the next few
days he would look very interesting indeed.

‘We were at Jackson’s Salon.’

Isabella raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly you
both displeased Mr. Jackson in some way for he seems to have taken
a dislike to your faces.’

‘Oh let’s not talk about that,’ his lordship
said hastily, ‘Miss Piedmont? Will you take a turn around the
terrace with me?’

Under the circumstances, in plain sight of
all, there could be no objects and Alora took his arm readily and
they moved off together. Isabella tilted her head at Mr.
Carstairs.

‘Are
we
going to take a turn
together?’

‘Of course. I cannot leave you here by
yourself. It would be most impolite.’ He held out his arm and she
tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

‘So how
did
you actually come by your
bruises?

‘I have told you. Boxing at -’

‘Jackson’s Salon. Yes I know. But I don’t
believe that was done in sport, Mr. Carstairs. I suspect the two of
you were in a fight.’

‘It was a gentleman’s affair, Miss
Hathaway,’ he told her loftily, ‘and the subject is hardly fit for
a lady’s ears.’

‘Ah.’ There wasn’t a great deal she could
say to that and he knew it. Gentlemen had their own especial code
of conduct that ladies were not privy to. She had often thought
that was highly unfair but the subject was, effectively, closed.
She soothed her ruffled feelings by selecting a subject she could
have an answer to. ‘Have you made a list of suitable males for
me?’

‘You are always so forthright, Miss
Hathaway.’

‘Some people find that an appealing trait.’
Alora did, anyway. She suspected Mr. Carstairs would not be nearly
so complimentary.

‘How interesting.’

‘You have not answered my question.’

‘As it happens, Joss and I have been
compiling a list this afternoon. We have come up with seven
suitable candidates.’

Seven? Well,
that
sounded promising.
She had thought that she would have no more than two or three at
her disposal. ‘Seven? Are you saying that there are seven men under
the age of five and thirty who have suitable income and who might
be looking at getting married?’

‘Five and thirty? We had settled for
gentlemen under the age of thirty, actually. Males who are unwed at
five and thirty are set in their ways and not inclined to
compromise.’

‘I had not thought of that.’ She glanced up
at him from under her lashes. ‘I must say, I am impressed with your
foresight, Mr. Carstairs. And when am I likely to meet these
gentlemen?’

‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Harry was
frowning. ‘We can hardly invite a bunch of fellows around with the
view of making your acquaintance. Not the thing at all. So we
thought we might employ Lady Bromely.’

‘Lady Bromely?’ Isabella repeated, taken
aback by the introduction of a new name.

‘A kind of cousin of Joss’s. She has a
fondness for him so she is quite likely to humor his request to
throw a dance or some such thing. We thought a relatively small
party. He intends to visit tomorrow and ask her. She will invite
all the likely gentlemen on our list.’

‘And Miss Piedmont, no doubt.’

‘No doubt. It seemed the least troublesome
way of arranging things. Once they are all assembled, you can look
them over and tell us which ones you like the look of.’

‘Good heavens,’ she murmured, ‘it sounds
rather like a visit to Tattersall’s.’

‘Isn’t that what marriage is all about?’ he
enquired cynically. ‘Buying the right horse?’

‘A scornful viewpoint but I would have to
agree. And after I list the likely candidates?’

‘Then Joss and I will lead them by the nose
into your presence and you can weed out the dross.’

Isabella was silent for a moment. ‘I can
tell by your tone… you do not approve?’

‘I hardly think my approval is
necessary.’

‘And how will
you
go about selecting a
bride when the time comes?’ she demanded. ‘Or are you merely
waiting to fall in love with the right girl?’

‘Fall in love? Hardly.’

‘I didn’t think so. So you are going to base
your choice on… what? Looks? Breeding? Dowry? All three, I daresay.
Under the circumstances, I hardly think that I am in the wrong
here. You are merely offended because I am female. Admit it. You do
not think it seemly for a female to be so outspoken about her
requirements, despite the fact that most of the females that mill
around during the Season are after exactly the same thing. Would
you prefer it if I pretended?’

‘Yes. No! Oh… I don’t know. I just think the
whole thing is somehow… tasteless.’

Isabella opened her mouth to reply but no
words emerged for her eye had been caught by the couple that were
coming slowly up the steps that lead into the gardens. The
gentleman was tall, dark and quite impressively handsome and he was
looking down at a pretty, petit brunette who clung to his arm like
ivy to an oak tree. She was laughing, face alight as she looked up
at him, the very image of a woman in love.

Isabella stopped as if she had just
encountered a brick wall. Beside her, Mr. Carstairs also came to an
abrupt stop.

Oh dear
God
…

Turning, she said rather desperately, ‘Dance
with me!’

Not surprisingly, he looked bemused by this
unexpected request. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Dance with me. Right now!’ And seizing him
by the elbow, she pulled him firmly towards the French doors,
straight into the swirl of couples that moving in time to the
music.

Harry was bemused by his abrupt change in
fortunes. Women, he knew, could be mercurial but this was
ridiculous.