by Buck, Gayle
Thea nodded, writing swiftly. “Very well.”
While the list was lengthening, Philip withdrew from the parlor, ostensibly to engage a chambermaid. After supplying Miss Stafford with the few items he considered essential, Cardiff was left to his own devices. A swift survey of his surroundings informed him of the nicety of the furnishings, and a glance through the window overlooking the busy inn yard confirmed his assumption that the hostel enjoyed greater commerce than the one where he had first become embroiled in Miss Stafford’s troubled affairs. As a last resort, he thought, he could call upon the services of whatever bystanders there might be in the inn if he needed assistance in ridding himself of the Stafford brothers. However, his innate dislike of attracting unwelcome attention persuaded him to try his original tack first.
And that reflection brought him round to what it was he intended to do later that evening.
Chapter Ten
Cardiff was fully aware that his future would be radically altered once he had spoken with Miss Stafford that evening. He casually turned around in order to observe the lady while she was busy at her task and oblivious to him. With cool detachment, he began to inspect his prospective bride. He had not really had an opportunity to do so before. Miss Stafford was of medium height, a brunette of a pleasing honey brown shade. Her eyes were so dark a blue as to appear black when she was frightened or angry. Cardiff was compelled to compare Miss Stafford’s eyes to a starlit, midnight blue sky. The flight of fancy mildly surprised him by its existence.
Slightly disconcerted, he forced himself to continue with his unemotional catalog of the lady’s assets. Miss Stafford’s figure was neat and trim and at all times she moved gracefully. Cardiff did not think he had ever seen Miss Stafford look at a disadvantage, except perhaps when her nose had been reddened from crying. She was not a beauty in the truest sense of the word, but lovely enough to command attention wherever she might find herself. She was not displeasing to him, in any event. Thea Stafford would even compare favorably with Miss Cummings, whom he had thought was a lovely lady.
Quite aside from Miss Stafford’s obvious physical attributes, Cardiff had already seen her calibre when afraid and tired and angered. She had borne up amazingly well under the harrowing experiences which she had undergone over the past day and a half, he reflected. Her entire world had been shattered and yet, with the notable exception of that bout of tears, which had been most pardonable under the extremity of her circumstances, she had not succumbed to her emotions. Another woman might have gone into flat hysterics or fallen prey to self-pity.
He had already learned to admire Miss Stafford’s spirit. Her character and innate breeding had also earned his respect. Miss Stafford was an exceptional young woman and one who would in all probability make him an admirable wife. She possessed the stuff that a soldier’s wife must have, especially one like himself, who closely served the commander of the British forces. The social demands of his position would in all probability not faze her. As for the rest of it, if he chanced to be appointed to a particularly interesting task, he trusted that she would bear up well under the uncertainty of his absences in the service of his country.
Of course, he must marry her. There was really no choice left to him, in all honor. Oddly enough, it did not seem to be as much of a sacrifice as he assumed it would be. At all events, he would not be able to reconcile it with his conscience if he left the lady to her fate. In the eyes of the world, Miss Stafford was ruined. She would never be able to live down the damage done to her reputation. The fact that her brothers had been with her at all times would not be enough to save her. In fact, the gossipmongers would disbelieve it, and the Staffords were not agile enough to spin an acceptable tale.
Cardiff smiled in self-mockery. He and Miss Stafford had been neatly boxed after all, despite all of their vigorous protestations. He was confident that Miss Stafford would see the advantages to his suit, and as for himself, he was already reconciled to the necessity. Actually, it would not be a bad thing to have a wife, reflected Cardiff, since at some point he would need to produce an heir to carry on the family name. He felt a quickening in him as he glanced again at Miss Stafford. A smile touched his lips. He did not think it would be difficult to make love to Thea Stafford.
His gaze was drawn to Thomas Stafford as the young man leaned over his sister’s chair to point out something on her list. Cardiff’s mouth tightened, his former smile extinguished. Wed he undoubtedly would be, but he was damned if he would tie the knot in the company of any of Miss Stafford’s mad relations. He had already made that decision when he spoke to his servants.
Really, the one and most formidable drawback to a union with Miss Stafford was undoubtedly her family. Cardiff felt that honor carried obligation only so far. He would have Miss Stafford to wife, but he drew the line at living hand in glove with her family.
However, the very fact that he was in the army, seeing duty on the Peninsula, must preclude too frequent visits. As his wife, she would naturally go with him. Miss Stafford was undoubtedly fond of her family, despite their rough handling of her, and would miss them. There was a tight English society established in Portugal, and Cardiff hoped she would settle in contentedly enough with the other British wives.
“Right then,” murmured Lord Cardiff to himself. The first order of business was to come to a perfect understanding with Miss Stafford. He did not foresee much difficulty in that, for it must be as clear to her as it was to him that marriage to him was her best option. The second task would be to divest themselves of her brothers. For the latter, he already had the rudiments of a plan. He hoped that it would be successful since he did not really wish to call upon his servants for succor.
“Did you say something, my lord?” asked Thea, looking across at Lord Cardiff inquiringly. She did not know how it was, but she was at all times sensitive to Lord Cardiff’s presence. Even though she had been concentrating on the list for Thomas, she had been aware of his lordship’s somewhat restless wanderings about the room. She saw that he wore a peculiar smile and that there was a strange light in his eyes. Startled, she realized it was the same expression he had worn when he had interrupted her and Mr. Quarles.
Thomas straightened and also looked over at Lord Cardiff. There was a considering expression in his eyes, as though he was wondering what Lord Cardiff might he contemplating.
Though Cardiff did not place much emphasis on Thomas Stafford’s powers of cogitation, he still did not want to give the young gentleman any reason to suspect that he was planning something. In an effort to appear casual, he made a pretense of adjusting his coat cuffs.
“I was merely thinking aloud. Of our dinner, actually. I’ll call for a waiter,” drawled Cardiff. He stepped over to the bell pull, which was hanging near the hearth, and gave it a decided tug.
Thomas nodded approvingly. He liked to keep the important things in life well in mind himself. “A good thought, my lord.”
Cardiff sketched an ironic bow before he turned to lean against the mantel. Ignoring his companions, he stared meditatively into the fire.
Thea drew her brother’s attention again to her list by asking a pertinent question.
Cardiff paid little attention to their renewed discussion, having other matters besides a shopping list to occupy him.
The waiter must have been near to hand because before many minutes elapsed a knock sounded and he appeared at the door. Cardiff ordered a neat dinner for four and also something extra for afterwards, which he hoped would prove the key to becoming painlessly rid of Miss Stafford’s brothers.
Cardiff had long since judged the Staffords to be minor landed gentry, generations of the family undoubtedly being entrenched in the country with only rare trips up to London, which would account for both their arrogance and their ignorance concerning his own antecedents. He hoped that Philip and Thomas Stafford were too countrified to have yet come across some of the more potable entertainments. What he had in mind was a recipe notorious for its potency.
With an anticipatory smile, Cardiff found that he was actually looking forward to that evening. At last he would be taking a step to once again become the master of his own fate.
When Cardiff was done making his wishes known regarding dinner, an afterthought came to him, and he also asked for the services of the boots. He pulled his purse out of his pocket and negligently tossed the waiter a coin. In his confident manner, he said, “I should like dinner within the hour. Pray inform the cook.”
With a professional eye, the waiter gauged the weight of the purse and concluded that this was a patron worth serving well. He left assuring his lordship of service on the instant.
Thomas’s exit with the finished list in hand coincided with Philip’s return. It occurred to Cardiff that Philip had been gone too long on the simple errand of procuring the services of the chambermaid for Miss Stafford. He narrowed his eyes speculatively. He hoped Philip had not also started to arrange for a new team, only to discover that one had already been requested to be put to the carriage before sunrise.
However, Cardiff’s apprehension was proven to be unfounded when Philip unwittingly provided the answer.
“Thea, I have spoken to the innkeeper’s wife at length and discovered that there is a modiste here who is a capable needlewoman. I told her that we had lost our baggage and asked whether she thought the modiste could be expected to have an extra gown or two already made up that could be altered for you. She has promised to send someone to fetch the woman,” said Philip.
Thea was quick to show her gratitude. “Thank you, Philip!” She bounced up from the desk to give her brother a spontaneous hug. Her brilliant eyes gleamed above a beaming smile.
Philip reddened, gratified that he had pleased her. Awkwardly he patted her shoulder as she drew away from him. “Now that’s enough, Thea. What will his lordship think about such hoydenish tricks? Besides, I just saw a chambermaid bringing up hot water to your room and—”
“A bath? How heavenly! Pray excuse me, Philip, my lord!”
Thea practically ran from the parlor. The two gentlemen were left to stare at the spot that she had so abruptly vacated. Cardiff met Philip’s gaze and suddenly they were both laughing.
“Women are the same, whether in England or elsewhere. They will endure the most unimaginable discomfort, as long as they may bathe,” said Cardiff humorously.
“Yes, females like their creature comforts,” said Philip in amiable agreement. His grin faded as he regarded Lord Cardiff for a lengthening moment. His expression altered so that he almost looked to be pleading. “We—Thomas and I— meant it all for the best, my lord.”
Despite himself, Cardiff felt his own sympathetic response. If he had had a sister he probably would have gone to incredible lengths to secure her future happiness. Of course, it went without saying that he would not have gone about it the same way. However, that was neither here nor there. He could still appreciate Philip Stafford’s position.
“I am aware of that. I also understand it. And I assure you that if your sister will agree to accept me, I shall do honorably by her,” said Cardiff quietly.
Philip nodded. He appeared about to say something more when the boots came to the door. In the flurry of instructions for the cleaning of all three gentlemen’s footgear, whatever other confidences might have been forthcoming were never made.
A quarter hour later, Thomas returned. He triumphantly flourished various bundles tied up in paper and string, as well as a small portmanteau. He delivered the portmanteau and some of the bundles across the hall into the hands of the chambermaid who came to Miss Stafford’s door when he knocked. The rest of the various personal items the three gentlemen divided between them.
“I don’t mind telling you that my pockets are almost to let, Philip,” said Thomas frankly, busily breaking the string on one of his bundles. “I wanted this shirt and had to dig deep to come up with what the shopkeeper asked for it.”
Cardiff glanced over at Thomas thoughtfully. He found the information regarding the Staffords’ finances to be of vast interest. Even if he had not already decided to be rid of their company, it was quite possible their scheme would have run aground for lack of funds before very many more miles had been covered. More to the point, once he effected his escape with Miss Stafford (assuming, of course, that she was amenable to his offer for her hand and his plans for their wedding), it might be rather difficult for the Stafford brothers to run them to ground as easily as they had Miss Stafford when she boarded the stagecoach.
Fortunately for him, he always carried his purse on his person and so he had never been without it even through such a disgraceful episode as he had lately endured. His own funds were still ample to handle whatever charges he might incur on his journey.
He wondered idly how long it would have taken the Staffords to screw up their courage and decide to plunder his purse in order to continue the journey to Gretna Green. But perhaps he was underestimating their code of honor. He liked to think so, for they were to be his brothers-in-law, after all.
Unaware of his lordship’s regard, Thomas continued, “I had no notion of the price of things. I suspect I was charged more by some of the tradespeople only because I am a stranger.”
“You did not allow yourself to be cheated, surely!” said Philip with a quick frown.
“No, of course not! At least—well, not so that you would notice,” said Thomas. His recollections seemed to become a bit uncomfortable, bringing a deep scowl to his face.
“If you were overcharged, Thomas, it was not an unusual thing to have happen. It is like that for strangers anywhere they may find themselves. The trick is to make oneself acceptable to the locals,” said Cardiff casually. “The Portuguese tradespeople have never fared better than they do since our army arrived in their country. We British pay for our goods, whereas the French were wont simply to seize whatever it was they wanted. It is the difference between an army that is supplied by a baggage train and an army that is expected to forage from the countryside.”
“I should like to sit down with you one day, my lord, and talk about your experiences in the war,” said Thomas with quick interest. He shook his head with a sigh. “It is as close I shall ever get to the actual thing.”
“Perhaps we shall do that very thing one day, Thomas. But I think not tonight. After dinner, I should like an hour in private with Miss Stafford, if that is agreeable to you both,” said Cardiff.
“Quite agreeable, my lord. Thomas and I shall take ourselves off as soon as the covers are removed,” said Philip, making the slightest of bows.
“Oh, I see! Yes, that is just what we’ll do, indeed,” agreed Thomas. He was pleased to comprehend the purpose behind Lord Cardiff’s request. “You’ll wish time to make your offer to our sister in form, of course.”
“Precisely,” said Cardiff dryly. “However, after Miss Stafford and I come to an agreement and she withdraws for the evening, perhaps you and Philip would be good enough to rejoin me here in the parlor. I have ordered the ingredients for a rare bowl of punch, over which I thought we might discuss the outcome of my formal offer for Miss Stafford’s hand and begin talking over the preliminary details of the settlements.”
“Settlements?” repeated Philip, looking as though he was mouthing an unfamiliar word.
His brother as usual zeroed in on what was most important to his own desires. “A bowl of hot punch! Marvelous!” exclaimed Thomas, rubbing his hands together. His bland blue eyes were bright with anticipation. “That is something like, my lord!”
Cardiff nodded and smiled at Thomas, but otherwise confined himself to replying to Philip. “In the absence of your father and as Miss Stafford’s brothers, you are naturally to become his mouthpieces. Surely I may rely upon you in that capacity?” He raised his brows, allowing mild surprise to thread his voice, making it obvious that he thought there could be little question of their willingness to comply with his request.
As Cardiff had known he would, Philip Stafford rose to
the challenge. Philip threw out his wide chest. “Of course, my lord! Thomas and I shall be happy to act as our father’s proxy in this matter. We shall hold ourselves at your service.”
“Now there’s a good notion for a cold night, my lord,” said Thomas with deep approval. “A bowl of hot punch and solemn business to discuss over it.”
Cardiff smiled. “I am glad you welcome my suggestion, Thomas.” He rubbed one hand over his roughened chin thoughtfully. “I believe I shall call for a basin of hot water and shave myself before dinner. I shall leave you to your own company, gentlemen.” He picked up his own bundles from the table and began to saunter across the parlor.
“Are you in the habit of shaving yourself, my lord?” asked Thomas, disconcerted. He had assumed that Lord Cardiff would call upon one of the waiters to perform that service for him.
Cardiff looked back at the younger man, a prominent gleam of mockery in his eyes. “A soldier must be able to care for himself, Thomas.”
“Of course—of course,” said Thomas hastily.
Carrying the bundles containing a new shirt and other personal sundries, Cardiff approached the door of the small bedchamber that had been allotted to him for his own use. It had not escaped his notice that the bedchamber was situated where he would have to pass through the parlor in order to gain access to the hall. He had gained a measure of trust but not all. Philip and Thomas apparently believed he might change his mind about being willing to wed their sister.
The Stafford brothers had elected to share the larger chamber, which also adjoined the parlor. Cardiff suspected that they meant to leave their door open in order to be awakened by any attempt on his part to escape from them during the night. It amused him, for he rather thought he could steal past any number of open doorways with as little sound as a ghost. After all, he had been on more than one reconnaissance of the enemy.
On the thought, Cardiff paused on the threshold before entering his bedchamber. He looked directly at Philip Stafford with a cool expression. “You’ll not need the pistol any longer,” he said quietly, deliberately.
