A Regrettable Proposal

by Jennie Goutet

  Fitz had also gone back to search the area and found nothing by way of clues. He knew what Ingram had been doing that morning but didn’t feel at liberty to disclose it without Ingram’s specific permission. “Even though,” Fitz added, “he told me he’d taken you into complete confidence.” Stratford wondered how he would get to the bottom of all this without being able to talk it over with Ingram.

  “Worthing.” At hearing himself addressed, Stratford looked up, surprised at seeing someone he knew only by half. The rival.

  “Hallo, Carlton.” He saw that the gentleman lingered, so he added, “Will you be seated?”

  “I think I will. Thank you.” Lord Carlton nodded when Stratford lifted the carafe in front of him, and he pushed the spare glass forward. When he had taken a sip, Carlton settled in more comfortably. “It’s a dashed business, Lord Ingram taking a spill the way he did. I understand his father went off in the same way.” He looked up with a self-assured smile, which fell when he saw Stratford’s implacable expression. “You’ll think I’m overly familiar. Forgive me. I’ve just run into Miss Daventry and Miss Ingram.”

  Stratford was surprised to hear they had gone out and beat back an impulse to ask where. “No one likes to hear of ill-luck trailing the people we know,” he answered instead. “Fortunately in this case, the doctor thinks he’ll only have to deal with a broken leg. It could have been much worse. But, of course, we’ll only know when he wakes up.” Stratford refilled his own glass and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Is it possible you don’t know?” asked Carlton in, what seemed to Stratford, the most provoking tone.

  “Know what?” Stratford’s words were as curt as politeness allowed.

  “Lord Ingram has already awakened. Miss Daventry and Miss Ingram just told me.”

  Stratford sighed, feeling the weight of the long night’s vigil. He was relieved at the news but impatient to end the interview with the messenger. “That is indeed good news. Is Miss Ingram about town then? When I saw her last, she was taken to her room.”

  “I think Miss Daventry must have convinced her,” Lord Carlton said. “She’s a rare gun. It seems like nothing will send her reaching for the smelling salts.”

  Stratford, remembering her sangfroid in face of discovering her host’s inanimate form, and her willingness to sacrifice her own undergarments, nodded silently. She had been nearly blue with cold by the time they reached the townhouse, and though he wished to cover her or rush her home quickly, he couldn’t leave Ingram.

  “Actually—” Lord Carlton let out a nervous chuckle, “there’s a reason I wanted to speak with you today and am glad to find we are quite private.” He looked around the room at the few tables, which were occupied in its various corners, none near theirs.

  “Oh?” Worthing raised an eyebrow, a silent bid for him to continue. Or desist, for a man of lesser courage.

  “You see, I’ve come to form an attachment for Miss Daventry.” Lord Carlton met Stratford’s gaze briefly, then looked away. “I have come to see in her the virtues that would exactly suit me in a wife. She shows courage to defend those who are less fortunate. Her intellect is not to be despised, and she shows a fine understanding on every topic on which we converse. And her smile, well …” He gave a boyish laugh. “You don’t care to hear about all that. I don’t think I need to convince you that I can offer her a good name and a comfortable living. But if you’d like to discuss the particulars, I can have my lawyer meet yours—”

  Stratford could stand it no longer. “Good God, man. What are you about? Why ever are you telling all this to me?”

  Lord Carlton looked up, startled, and for the first time, unsure of himself. “Why, you’re her guardian. Lady Jersey said so herself. Naturally I must approach you.”

  “As Lady Jersey knows full-well I am no such thing, you must have misunderstood. It was my uncle, the Fourth Earl of Worthing, who was her guardian. I’m nothing to her.” Stratford reached for the carafe, only to realize both glasses were untouched.

  Lord Carlton leaned forward and gripped his cane. His ears were red. “Might you know to whom I may address my suit?”

  “To the lady herself,” Stratford replied with a bitter edge. Then, forcing his voice to be steady, “She is, as you know, under the protection of Lord Ingram for the season. I can’t imagine Miss Daventry’s aunt will oppose such a suit as yours, and Lady Ingram has undertaken to see her suitably wed.”

  After a pause, he added quietly, “I imagine your suit will prosper.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Two days had passed since his meeting with Carlton, and each time Stratford had presented himself at the Ingram house to offer his help, he was thanked and told his service was not needed now that Ingram was out of danger. He’d not set eyes on Ingram himself, as Frederick had been sleeping both times. Stratford set out for another attempt, this time on foot, being in no mood to drive in a crowded roadway, which would require a patience and restraint he did not have. His set face was hidden under the low brim of his hat, and soon, the quiet clip, clip of his boots drowned out the bustling metropole.

  The lack of something concrete to put his mind to, concerning Ingram and his assailant, only meant Stratford had more time on his hands to think. This turned out to be a less-than-happy circumstance since his thoughts these days were increasingly laced with bitterness. So she had caught Carlton’s fancy, had she? Of course. Now she’d have exactly what she wanted. A man who would marry her for love. That was what she’d said, wasn’t it? Of all the hazy bits of conversation he could drag from the recesses of his alcohol-soaked subconscious, he remembered those words, clear as a bell. “I want to marry for love.”

  If only Stratford hadn’t revealed any of his own feelings for Miss Daventry. He didn’t like to be taken for a fool. How could he have mistaken her regard for him? How could he have underestimated her feelings for Carlton? Fuming, he ignored a peer’s attempt to greet him. Well, if you’re willing to take a husband who’s still wet around the ears, I suppose he’s a choice candidate. I wish you happy, Miss Daventry.

  He couldn’t blame Carlton for taking a shine to her, though. The way she spoke her mind challenged one to be a better man. She was unflinchingly loyal, generous to those she loved, forgiving …

  She might not be pretty in the classical sense, but she was comely to him. Her eyes held a certain understanding to them. Then there was the way her nose turned up. And when she smiled at a person, everything came to life. Those laughing eyes, the dimples that would always look like she was plotting mischief. A tidy figure that invited you to steal an arm around her waist—

  Stratford’s steps faltered as that thought flooded his senses.

  I’m thinking about another man’s soon-to-be-wife, Stratford chided himself. He walked on, furious with himself for this weakness. She may have wanted to marry for love, but that calf-stage was over for him. He would not be such a fool again. He walked on, plunged in thought, remembering her pert expression and challenging words—It may not be Christian of me, but I should like to think it over before I decide—and laughed softly.

  He’d been sullen when they dined together. He insulted her when he proposed to her. He mangled his apology. And even at Almack’s, he’d bungled it further by comparing her to one of his sisters. Then again … there was the pull of attraction when they’d waltzed together, and her glowing reaction when he said he admired her. Maybe he’d misjudged the situation. Maybe she didn’t care for Carlton at all.

  And if she didn’t care for Carlton, it meant he still had a chance.

  Stratford felt a sudden need to see for himself and quickened his pace to Grosvenor Square. Perhaps she was at home at that moment. In any case, he must call and find out how Ingram was doing and give him what little news they had. When he ran up the short stairwell and rang the bell, he heard it chime inside, followed by the muted footsteps of the butler coming to answer the door.

  “Ah, Lord Worthing,” the butler said, as stately as if
Stratford had not once been his master’s childhood friend of little consequence. There were noises in the stairwell when he entered, and he looked up to see the object of his rumination. Miss Daventry came downstairs in a walking dress the color of her eyes. He caught her gaze, and her steps stilled for a moment, her lips quivering on the edge of a smile. She looked glad to see him.

  Lydia was on the bottom step and held out her hand, which he took as he bowed. “Stratford, have you come to see Ingram? He’s awake, but he chased us out of the room, so we’ve decided to go to Hyde Park.”

  Stratford nodded. “Yes, I’ve come to see him.” Turning to Miss Daventry, he searched for a hint of what she was feeling, wondering if her heart could still be won. “Have you anyone to escort you to the park?” he asked. “I will undertake to do so, willingly.”

  “Did you not wish to see Fred?” Lydia asked. He had. Good grief. Where had his wits gone begging?

  The door to the drawing room opened, and Lord Carlton stepped out with Major Fitzwilliam. “Worthing—you, here!” Carlton said, and took his place at Miss Daventry’s side. “Came to see Ingram for yourself, did you?”

  “I did.” Stratford set his lips in a firm line and turned to Lydia. “You said he’s awake now?”

  “He is, though who knows for how long. He’s in pain, and it will soon be time for his sedative. Shall we wait for you then, Stratford?” Lydia pulled her gloves on and peered up at him.

  “I see you are both in good hands, and I will only be in the way. Good day, gentlemen. Miss Daventry.” He turned quickly and climbed the stairs, not sparing a second glance toward the departing group.

  “Miss Daventry, you look a picture,” Lord Carlton said. Stratford, gripping the railing, did not hear her reply.

  Ingram was lying in bed, a dull look in his eyes as he stared out the window. His valet was at his side, reading out loud from the morning paper. When Stratford came in the room, Ingram sent his valet away and told him to dissuade his mother from entering since he would surely be asleep once his friend had left.

  Stratford clasped his hand on Ingram’s shoulder. “I’m mighty glad to see you awake. You look much more the thing than you did when I left you three days ago.” A fresh wave of pain came over Ingram’s features, and Stratford sat. “Easy now. How’s the pain?”

  “It’s fine,” Ingram returned, not convincingly. “Tell me if you’ve discovered anything. What have you been about since we last spoke?”

  “Nothing to the purpose. Fitz and I are still looking. No footprints, no forgotten objects, nothing out of the ordinary. Delacroix showed up, just like that.”

  “So I was told.” Ingram met Stratford’s gaze. “He’s the one to watch, I think. I put Fitz on him.” Stratford nodded.

  After a minute of silence, Ingram continued. “Hartsmith came to see me when I woke up with news that there had been a break-in in my library the same night I was attacked.”

  Stratford’s brows shot upward. “I should stay here,” he started to say, before realizing it was impossible. He could not leave his own sisters unattended.

  Ingram smiled and shook his head. “Hartsmith is clever. He left nothing of value in the library and barred the door leading to the rest of the rooms. I suspected my house might one day be a target, and he was cautious after I was attacked. I had him send for Fitz to apprise him of the situation. The net will tighten, and one day our man will grow careless.”

  Stratford chewed his lip. “Any idea what he was searching for?”

  “I know precisely what he was after,” Ingram said. “It was the report I was sending to Le Marchant with troop and supply details, although I cannot figure out how anyone could be aware I was carrying it when only two other people knew of its existence.”

  “Who were those two people?” Stratford asked.

  “Le Marchant and Fitz,” Ingram replied. “Le Marchant would have no reason to intercept his own courier, and Fitz would draw too much attention to himself by attempting it, besides the fact of it being so very out of his character. I’m convinced of his innocence.”

  “Strange to say on so little acquaintance, but so am I,” Stratford said. “And let us hope it is so because he’s currently escorting your sister to Hyde Park.”

  “He persists with Lydia, does he?” Ingram chuckled. “To each his own folly.”

  “So someone intercepted the report.” Stratford puzzled over this mystery. “Do you think the attacker meant you real harm?”

  Ingram thought for a minute. “I don’t know. He could have finished the job and chose not to. Or he could have thought the fall enough to do the trick. Or he could have been interrupted. It’s anyone’s guess. But I must correct your supposition. He does not have the report. I slipped an envelope with a false document in my coat pocket by way of precaution, which is what was stolen. The true report was in the saddlebag, where it was found when Melody was brought back to the stable.”

  “That makes me think the spy was either interrupted or an amateur. No one takes the first paper one finds without giving further search.” Stratford got up when he saw Ingram put his hand to his head.

  “I’ve the devil of a headache,” muttered Ingram.

  “I’ll get you your draught.” Stratford went to the table and stirred the medicine into a glass of water and then brought it to him.

  “Time will tell.” Ingram took the glass and swallowed its contents. “The fact that the man broke into my library last night shows he’s close enough to our operations to have suspected the document was a fake. I had Fitz add a watch over our house as well as headquarters in case he tries again. Fitz’ll escort my sister to the park, but the watch will be in place before nightfall. He’s not a man to be distracted.”

  Stratford sat back. “It’s a good plan.” He stayed quiet for only a moment before he could hold back no longer on what else had been occupying his thoughts. “I’ve just received a request from Lord Carlton to address Miss Daventry. He was here when I arrived, ready to walk out with her.” Stratford lifted an eyebrow.

  “Ho! What’s this? That greenhead? Can he be old enough to wed?” Stratford said nothing, and Ingram continued reflectively. “Our Miss Daventry, hmm? He’ll make a fair enough husband for her. No debts that I’m aware of.”

  “No,” Stratford said, shortly.

  When he said no more, Ingram eyed him shrewdly. “You sent him about his business, didn’t you?”

  “Told ’im he had the wrong earl,” Stratford said.

  Ingram laughed robustly, which then elicited a groan. “You must use me more kindly. I’m forbidden from finding humor in anything.”

  “And I, it seems,” said Stratford, “from finding joy.”

  His cryptic words were perfectly understood by his friend. “So that’s the way of it, is it? She may yet turn him down.” Ingram’s kind tone caused Stratford to scowl.

  He rubbed at the leather on the armchair, alternating between hope that Miss Daventry might have kept her heart for him, though he’d done little to deserve it, and despair that he’d been too slow and had lost her forever. The silence stretched before Ingram broke it.

  “I need your help, Stratford.” Ingram had the slightest slur to his words, but he waited until Stratford looked at him fully. “I need someone to escort my mother, sister, and Miss Daventry to the social functions until I’m fully recovered. Someone attacked me, and until we find out who it was and what their intention was, I don’t want my family to be in any danger. They probably aren’t, but I must be certain. I can think of no one better than you. Will you do it?

  “I know—” Ingram continued when he saw Stratford’s look of alarm. “You have your hands full already. But all they need is one male presence to keep an eye on them as they attend the assemblies. It’s well known that you’re a close friend to the family, and no one will think twice if you are the one to do it.”

  Stratford sighed. “Of course. You may count on me.”

  Ingram chuckled at Stratford’s tone, a sleepy laug
h. “If you had thought to escape to Worthing, you must surely know by now you won’t make good your escape as long as your own sisters are having their Season. You must cut your losses and surrender to your fate.”

  “I’ve accepted it, believe me.” The two men sat in silence. “Now I presume Carlton will be glued to our party. I don’t suppose he can pull the thing off,” Stratford said, flickering his eyes to Ingram’s face.

  “No,” Ingram said, eyes closed, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I don’t think he will.” His words gave Stratford hope.

  After a minute, Ingram drifted off. He jerked awake again, and seemed to be struggling to follow a train of thought before saying, “Fitz has access everywhere, but people will say to you what they won’t say to him. Though your peerage is recent, your friendships are not. When I go out, I’m listening to conversation as gentlemen play cards and when they gather in the clubs. I hear things that help me piece together my intelligence. Stratford,” he yawned and closed his eyes again, murmuring, “I need someone who can do that in my place.”

  Stratford leaned over and placed a hand on Ingram’s shoulder. “You know you may safely rely on me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lydia placed her hand in Major Fitzwilliam’s arm as he directed his steps toward Hyde Park, with Lord Carlton and Eleanor following suit. It was the fashionable hour, and streams of people strolled in the same direction, but there was no one they knew to disturb their peace.

  “Miss Ingram,” the major began, “I wanted very much to come to you before, but I was detained by military business. You seem to be at peace. Are you reassured regarding your brother’s recovery?”

  Lydia fixed her eyes on a distant point. “You must have thought me terribly vaporish, but you see, my father died falling from his horse, and all I could think of was that I would lose my brother too. I suppose I also feared we’d be turned out of our home because, at present, the person set to inherit is a third cousin with whom we are not at all acquainted. I feared a drastic reversal of our fortunes.”