The Heiress Convenient Husband

by Regina Scott

  “So, I have no choice but to keep an eye on them until I hear from the earl,” he concluded. “Therefore, I must have a chaperone.”

  She nodded, and he nearly sagged in relief. But then, he’d always admired her practical nature. And after the way she’d rallied the villagers to confront a gang of smugglers a week ago, he could only admire her ingenuity and courage as well.

  “Of course,” she agreed in her sweet voice. “I’ll help my aunt gather her things.”

  “It will only take a moment,” Mrs. Tully said, bustling back the way she had come.

  James started after her, then glanced at her niece. “I had hoped you…”

  She held up her hand as if to stop him. “I have only a week to finish setting the spa to rights for the new physician, and I must prepare to vacate this cottage. I cannot be spared from those duties. Maudie can.”

  He’d already had words with Mr. Greer, the president of the Spa Corporation, about the decision to release Miss Chance from her post. The first Chance in the area had decided to make use of the mineral waters for their healing properties, and there had been a Chance in charge of the spa ever since. The previous host had been Miss Chance’s father, a physician, until he’d passed away last year. She had taken over then.

  And she’d done a magnificent job of running not only the day-to-day operations but monthly events that the visitors so loved. Just yesterday had seen the annual midsummer masquerade at the assembly rooms at the top of the hill, an event enjoyed by all. But, no matter her skills, she wasn’t a physician, and her brother was too young to take up the role, so the corporation had located a replacement. Apparently, Doctor Bennett had insisted he needed no hostess. Another time James might have appealed to the earl to fund her salary anyway, but he’d already used up any collateral he might have had.

  “And may I say again how much I abhor the decision to discharge you,” he said as something thumped from the other room. “But, because of that decision, you owe the corporation no loyalty now.”

  “I owe our guests only the most pleasant of times,” she countered. “My aunt is an experienced chaperone, sir. She knows her duty as well.”

  “Where did you put my pixie trap?” Mrs. Tully called.

  “Excuse me.” Miss Chance went to help her aunt.

  James paced from the stone hearth past the rocking chair toward the door. Could he trust Maudlyn Tully to do the job? Most of the people in Grace-by-the-Sea understood about her whimsical nature. The older widow claimed mermaids inhabited the cove, trolls the headland. She’d even whispered about French spies invading. Well, that story at least was more real than she could know, though James wasn’t about to confirm it. Still, the last time she’d visited the castle with him, she’d horrified his other guests with tales of gruesome murders, chilling hauntings, and a hound with glowing red eyes. He could just imagine what Miss Faraday would think.

  James stopped and smiled. Perhaps Mrs. Tully would make the perfect chaperone, at least until she scared his uninvited guest right out of the castle.

  ~~~

  “Then are we to leave, miss?” Patsy asked, straightening in the act of removing Eva’s gowns from one of the hastily packed trunks.

  Eva had asked Yeager to join her and her maid, Patsy, in the bedchamber she’d chosen so she could explain the situation to them. Though the holland covers had been removed from the great box bed and walnut wardrobe, carved chest, and dressing table, the room still felt oddly empty, as if it were waiting for someone other than her to occupy it.

  “No,” she said, glancing between the maid and her man-of-all-work. “Here we were banished, and here we stay until the fortune is mine.”

  Yeager drew up his lanky frame. “Right you are, Miss Eva. His lordship sent us off. He’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

  “Not him,” Patsy said with a sniff, straight brown hair beginning to fall from her bun to frame her round face. “He’ll find a way to wiggle out of any trouble. That’s what snakes do.”

  “Now, now,” Eva said, “I will not have you calling the earl such names.”

  Patsy hung her head, until Eva added, “After all, you malign the poor snake.”

  Patsy straightened with a chuckle.

  “And what about his watchdog?” Yeager persisted. “Are we to fetch and carry for him as well?”

  She had been trying so hard to find an ounce of sympathy for James Howland, until he’d declared his intent to move in with her. Why did he obey the earl’s least command? Was he so fawning that the earl treated him better than most? Or was he so far away from the rest of his family that he did not know he served a corrupt master? She’d seen how his lordship worked to hide his plans from his heir, Viscount Thorgood. Perhaps James Howland really did think he was only doing his duty.

  “If he requests your help, oblige him,” she said, “unless you think it would harm us in some way. If you have any doubts, speak to me first.”

  They both nodded.

  “There’s no food in the house,” Yeager reported. “We can eat what we brought in the hamper, but we’ll have to see what can be had in the morning. How close is that village, do you think?”

  Eva shrugged. “The earl made it sound like the closest habitation was leagues away. I have no idea where Mr. Howland normally lives. But he has to eat as well. He can point us in the right direction, at least.”

  “I’ll call when I have the table set,” Yeager said before bowing and leaving.

  If only the Howlands were as easy to deal with. Eva couldn’t help her sigh as she helped Patsy put away the rest of her things. Some she’d had to leave behind, but Patsy had thrown most of what she owned into the trunks they had brought with them. Fine lawn nightgowns reminded her of her bedchamber in London, done in pinks and blues, unlike this brown and white room that felt so cold. A riding habit in cerulean blue made her think of the times she’d ridden through Hyde Park in the early morning. But of course, the only horses she had here were the ones that had pulled her carriage. The earl had refused to release her riding horse, Blaze, from his stables.

  The fancy gowns wrapped in tissue brought tears to her eyes. How many times had she worn them to events with her father? The theatre, the opera, balls and routs and soirees. And the dinner parties! Her father had found it endlessly amusing how he had seldom been welcomed at the tables of the ton until she’d reached marriageable age.

  “Amazing what a daughter with an impressive dowry does for a fellow’s standing,” he’d joked more than once.

  The positioning and maneuvering had amused her as well while he was alive. Papa had had no qualms about her choosing her own husband, and he had always been able to spot a charlatan. It was one of the traits that had allowed him to make the savviest of investments. Yet he had mistaken the earl’s interest entirely.

  “You needn’t worry,” he’d wheezed on his deathbed, robust frame shrunken, voice a whisper of its usual strength. “Lord Howland will see to your future. I know you will do me proud.”

  Would he be proud of her, refusing the one thing the earl demanded of her?

  Far below, she thought she heard a bang, as if someone had slammed a door. Could Mr. Howland be back so soon? And why did that thought make her eager to rush downstairs?

  Patsy must have heard the noise too, for she shivered. “I don’t like this place, miss. It’s too big and too dark. Who knows what’s hiding in the shadows?”

  “Dust,” Eva told her. “Mr. Howland said the place hadn’t been lived in for years.”

  “Mighty loud for dust,” Patsy muttered, returning to the unpacking.

  “Perhaps I’ll just check,” Eva said, straightening and heading for the door.

  She had taken the bedchamber closest to the stairs, so it was only a moment before she reached the landing. She pitied anyone housed farther down the corridor in either direction. It was just like a Howland to make a castle out of what should have been a simple hunting lodge. Fine carpets graced every floor. Paintings hung on ev
ery wall. At least, she assumed they were paintings. Why else drape so much linen about?

  She’d only explored a little so far, but if the other wings were anything like this one, the place could easily sleep two dozen, not counting the servants. Patsy was right. There were many ways to hide. She fought a shiver herself.

  At least it wasn’t easy to hide in the entry hall below. It had been designed to resemble the great hall of a real castle, with soaring ceilings veined in plaster and a stone fireplace big enough to roast an ox. The three people by the massive front door looked like dolls. She recognized James Howland. Who was the older couple with him?

  As if he felt her scrutiny, he looked up, and something inside her fluttered like a startled dove. Eva raised her head. “Well, at least you know how to keep a promise.”

  He sketched her a bow. “Miss Faraday.” Straightening, he turned to the woman at his elbow. “Mrs. Tully, may I present Miss Eva Faraday? You will be serving as her chaperone.”

  A chaperone? Oh, he really was doing it up right. Eva started down the stairs. “Mrs. Tully, how kind of you to come and at such a late hour.”

  “This is Mr. Pym, my manservant,” Mr. Howland continued before the woman with the curly grey hair could answer. “He will assist with staffing.”

  The other fellow, who looked a little like the leprechauns her father had told her stories about, bowed to her.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she realized her perspective hadn’t been so far off. Both Mrs. Tully and Mr. Pym were short; the top of their heads came only to Eva’s chin. Mrs. Tully’s black gown made her look even smaller, more fragile. Two bright blue eyes regarded her with interest from a round face that was beginning to show wrinkles.

  “Have you seen the Lady yet?” she asked.

  Eva glanced to Mr. Howland, but he merely offered her a smile. The set of his lips told her he was expecting a great deal from the exchange.

  “The lady?” Eva asked her new chaperone politely.

  She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “The Lady of the Tower. She wails for her love lost at sea. She was imprisoned here too, you know. Some say she haunts these halls to this day, seeking another to take her place.”

  Eva stared at her, chills running down her back.

  “Mrs. Tully knows any number of tales about the castle,” Mr. Howland put in.

  She nodded, grey curls trembling. “Indeed I do. And you would be wise to heed them, before it’s too late.”

  Eva grinned. “How delightful. I love a good ghost story.” She linked arms with her new chaperone. “You must tell me more.”

  Chapter Three

  James had to clamp his teeth together to keep his jaw from dropping as Miss Faraday led Mrs. Tully toward the withdrawing room to the left of the great hall.

  “I imagine that’s the first time Mrs. Tully has had such a receptive audience,” Pym marveled.

  James shook himself. “Find me a bedchamber in a different wing from hers, preferably one where I can keep a watch on the stairs.”

  Pym raised a rugged grey brow, but he started up the stairs for the chamber story. James followed the women into the withdrawing room.

  Most of the furniture and statuary in the house was draped with holland covers to prevent dust from accumulating. Someone had removed the cream-colored cloth from the settee and chairs by the hearth, and a cheery fire was crackling. He was afraid to ask what they’d done for wood.

  “The Hound of the Headland,” Mrs. Tully was saying from her place beside Miss Faraday on the lime-striped satin settee as he approached across the thick emerald-patterned carpet. “Great white beast with glowing red eyes.”

  “Fascinating,” Miss Faraday said, her own eyes gleeful. “And does it have a preferred prey? Children who don’t obey their parents, perhaps?”

  Mrs. Tully drew herself up, not an easy feat with the wide curving arms of the settee. “Nothing so common. It preys on young wastrels deep in their cups.”

  “Better and better.” Miss Faraday glanced up at him. “Do join us, Mr. Howland. I had no idea your family history was so dreadful. I begin to see how the earl became such a despot.”

  And he’d never understood why the earl chose to wield his power like a sword to cut his family to its knees. “Mrs. Tully has a unique insight into the area,” he said, but he sat on one of the matching chairs, hands on the chinoiserie-painted wood that edged the arms.

  Their chaperone tapped the side of her short nose with one finger. “Comes from years of observing.”

  That he could believe. She was a fixture in the village.

  “People tend not to notice chaperones and speak more freely, I suppose,” Miss Faraday mused. “Have you been one long?”

  “Since my Francis died,” she replied. She cocked her head. “Thirty years? No, forty! My, how time flies.”

  Miss Faraday patted her hand. “Well, I am very glad Mr. Howland thought of you.”

  Mrs. Tully glanced at James, gaze knowing. “He didn’t want me. He wanted my Jess.”

  “Mrs. Tully’s niece, Jesslyn Chance, is hostess at the spa at Grace-by-the-Sea,” he explained when Miss Faraday glanced his way as well. “She is closer to your age. I thought she might provide company.”

  Mrs. Tully waved a hand. “She’s too busy.”

  “There’s a spa here?” Miss Faraday asked eagerly.

  “An excellent spa,” Mrs. Tully assured her. “Mineral waters that will make your hair curl.”

  Not that Miss Faraday needed help in that area. That mass of curls at the back of her head looked as if it might have its own opinions and wouldn’t be shy about sharing them. Why did his fingers itch to pull those curls free?

  “Invigorating seaside bathing on appointment,” their chaperone continued, warming to her theme. “And an assembly every Wednesday evening. I do hope you’ll come.”

  “Assuredly,” Miss Faraday said. “I have a carriage. We can travel that far, I would think. I had no idea there was society here. The earl made it sound as if he was sending me to the end of civilization.”

  “We are at the end of civilization,” Mrs. Tully said solemnly. “The last, best hope of the kingdom, and the first line of defense against invasion.”

  Would that frighten the intrepid Miss Faraday at last? She certainly sobered.

  “Is it true, then?” she asked. “Are the French coming?”

  “Any day,” Mrs. Tully said, like a bell tolling their doom. “And we have only the trolls to protect us, fickle fellows that they are.”

  Miss Faraday blinked, as if suddenly facing the sun. He ought to let live, but he felt compelled to explain. After all, the honor of his village was at stake.

  “Grace-by-the-Sea has a number of sailors serving as Sea Fencibles, standing guard over our shores until the Navy can arrive,” he said.

  “And we have our own militia,” Mrs. Tully agreed. “Led by our magistrate here.” She smacked her lips. “There’s something about a man in a red coat.”

  A week after it had been hastily formed, the Grace-by-the-Sea militia of thirty men had three red coats among them, but several more were in progress through Mr. Treacle, the tailor. A shame their military skills were as sparse as their uniforms, but they were going to muster every Monday morning for training. Quill would be helping when he could. The former naval captain knew something of discipline and order. At least, so he claimed.

  James just had to make sure Quill wasn’t too obvious in recruiting men for his operations. It wouldn’t do for word to get back to Larkin Denby, the new Riding Surveyor sent by the Excise Office to watch for smugglers. Fortunately, Lark was engaged to Miss Chance and busy making sure she and her family had a home and support before the new physician arrived to take their cottage.

  Pym appeared in the doorway just then and coughed, and James rose to go see what he needed.

  “It will take a bit of doing to settle everything to rights, sir,” he said. “If you want to sleep soon, I might advise the settee in here.
”

  James glanced over his shoulder at the ladies, who were regarding him as avidly as if he’d been a strolling player brought for their entertainment, then returned his gaze to his man. “Thank you, Pym. What about you?”

  “I can find a spot, sir, never you fear. I’ll just wait to help with your boots.”

  “No need,” James said, laying a hand on a shoulder that had only grown more bowed in recent years. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Very good, sir.” Pym inclined his head and left.

  “Problem?” Miss Faraday asked as he rejoined them.

  “Nothing I cannot handle,” he assured her. “I am told I must make do with the settee this evening. Given all the excitement, I suggest we make an early night. Mrs. Tully, I regret that we won’t have a room ready for you until tomorrow either. I’m sure Miss Faraday won’t mind sharing.”

  He was imposing, but she merely offered him a tight smile before turning to Mrs. Tully. “The bed is plenty large, ma’am. If you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I share with Jess every night.” She glanced around the room with a sigh. “Though we have no ghosts, worse luck.”

  “And apparently we have an excess,” Miss Faraday said, voice once more dancing with merriment. “I hope you have an opportunity to make their acquaintance, Mr. Howland.”

  ~~~

  No ghosts made an appearance that night. Not that Eva thought they would. Still, that didn’t mean Castle Howland had never seen tragedy. She had to agree with Mrs. Tully: surely, she wasn’t the only one who had been imprisoned in these walls.

  “Have you met the Earl of Howland?” she asked her chaperone after Patsy had helped them change for bed and they had settled under the covers. With the lamps out, there was precious little light in the darkness.

  “Once,” Mrs. Tully answered, followed by a yawn. “I didn’t care for him.”

  “Oh?” Eva asked. “Why not?”

  “Too full of himself. And no imagination. The man wouldn’t know a troll if it picked him up and heaved him.”