Love's Harbinger

by Joan Smith

  Her face was long when they went downstairs to meet the gentlemen. Guy took Lady Lynne’s valise from the page boy, and Mr. Fletcher took Faith’s and led her to the carriage.

  “Graveston has just picked up the letter and has gone after Shaft,” Fletcher told her. “I daresay you find Guy’s attitude a little intransigent. He’s a soldier at heart, you know. They play for keeps. If you give your enemy a second chance, you end up very dead. He must have showed you the spent bullet he uses for a watch fob. It landed in his cheekbone on the occasion when he showed mercy to a wounded soldier in Spain. He kept it as a reminder. Shaft is a born scoundrel like his father before him. Bribery, corruption—every manner of crooked dealing. Guy wouldn’t have sent me down to cover just any by-election. He’s had his muzzle aimed on Shaft for a long time, ever since Graveston discovered the mishandling of affairs here. It would be asking too much to give Shaft another chance.”

  “I assure you I am not asking anything of Mr. Delamar,” she said primly.

  “He hoped you would not ask that favor, in any case. As to asking anything other than that . . . well, I shouldn’t hesitate. He’s generous. If you have much to do with him, you’ll find he asks a good deal of you. He doesn’t mind asking the impossible of people—the strangest thing is that they seldom refuse.”

  They reached the carriage, shook hands, and made their farewells. “I’m back to London to oversee getting out the rag. Perhaps I’ll see you there later, Lady Faith? Are you making a long visit at Bournemouth?”

  She gave him a startled look, surprised that Guy had not told his close friend about Thomas. “No, not long. We’ll be back within a few days. Yes, I hope we meet again.”

  He stored her valise and helped her into the waiting carriage.

  Chapter Eight

  Guy’s carriage was already pulling out of the yard, and before long they drew up to the dock where the barge was waiting. It was not large enough to take the two carriages and teams in one crossing.

  Guy came to them to explain the procedure. “I’ll go across first with my rig, then come back to accompany you. It helps to have an extra man with the horses in case they’re poor sailors. Bournemouth is only another twenty-five miles after that. We’ll be there for lunch.”

  Lady Lynne said all that was polite, while Faith studiously regarded the Times, whose words were a blur in front of her eyes. She continued to hide behind the paper after Guy left, while her aunt went for a stroll along the dock. Faith wanted to go home. Not to London, but home to Mordain Hall to hide herself. Her Season was over, and she had failed. Next year Hope would be sent forth but not without an enlightening discussion with her failed sister.

  Someone ought to warn debutantes about the jungle that awaited them in London. She had gone to town an innocent girl full of hopes. It had seemed, for a brief, halcyon month, that all her dreams were to come true. She had met her Prince Charming, had her offer of marriage, but now it had soured. She had only the disgrace of having accepted an offer from a rogue and the humiliation of facing society and her family. She hadn’t even been able to hang on to her rogue.

  She wished she could at least conceal from the world the extent of Thomas’s treachery. If she could find him and make him return the money . . . When had she accepted that he had indeed stolen it? No matter, she accepted it now. If Delamar caught him, there would be no hope of keeping the thing quiet. If Thomas would only return the money and invent some story to cover his strange flight, then his family might be saved the shame of having harvested a criminal and she the degradation of having loved one.

  This hope took a strong hold of her. Outwitting Mr. Delamar added a further incentive: It would give her great pleasure to best him. But how could she set about doing it? She must try to find Thomas before Delamar did.

  As the weather was still blustery and cold, her aunt soon returned to the carriage, and Faith tried to enlist her aid. “It will be an awful scandal if Thomas’s thievery hits the papers. Delamar will blazon it in headlines for the whole world to read. His father and mother will be killed with shame. I wonder where he is.”

  Her aunt wore a pensive face. Unmentioned by Faith, but of some importance to the aunt, was the fact that she had sponsored this match. It was she who would bear the brunt of blame and whose judgment would be in question. Lady Lynne had some misgivings herself about how Guy would handle the story in his paper. But her greatest fear was for the harm it would do to her niece’s chances. Now that Faith had managed to lose Guy’s interest, yet another replacement must be found. “Holed up in some inn, I expect. They will be the first places Guy looks. Has Thomas any friends in the neighborhood?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” A crafty light beamed in Lady Lynne’s eyes. Thomas was certainly at an inn, and Delamar would just as certainly find him unless she devised a scheme. Faith was of no use as a liar. Never having been a wife, she had not perfected the conjugal art of misleading a gentleman. It would be for herself to lead Guy a merry chase, while she found Thomas and got her money back. Of course she would try to talk him into returning the lot, but, failing that, she would at least have her share. Let the others fend for themselves. That self-seeking bounder would leap at the chance of getting away with most of his ill-gotten gains, and she doubted that Guy would bother to publish half a story if he had to omit the best part: that he had captured the thief.

  While they were waiting for the barge to return, another carriage pulled up behind them at the wharf. It was a hired carriage, not at all elegant, and was full of noisy, clamoring women.

  The man who sold tickets cast a jaundiced eye on the inferior carriage and strolled up to speak to Lady Lynne. “That’s the crew from across the water who were shipped in yesterday to entertain the gentlemen come to town for the election. Lightskirts, the lot of them,” he scoffed.

  The ladies, vastly interested in this matter, stared at the carriage. The door opened, and two of the females descended to stroll up and down the beach. They recognized the black-haired wench as Millie, Guy’s cohort in catching Willie Shaft. Millie was the prettier of the two, and certainly the noisier. She gamboled about like a lamb, careless of the wind that carried her skirts into the air. Yet despite her awful voice and her common behavior, Faith had to acknowledge that the girl was uncommonly pretty.

  When the barge returned and Delamar hopped ashore, Millie dashed up to him. They stood together chatting for a few minutes, longer than was necessary just to say good day. Guy leaned toward her, talking eagerly, and Millie nodded her head in agreement with whatever he had to say. When he pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her, the ladies exchanged a significant look.

  “I assume Guy was pleased with Millie’s performance,” Faith said grimly.

  “It looks like it,” her aunt agreed, “since he’s buying a ticket for a repeat performance.”

  After his transaction was finished, he added further fuel to their anger by not approaching them but only helping the groom get their carriage and team aboard. His own team were experienced seamen, and had made no fuss about boarding an unsteady barge. Lady Lynne’s horses were landlubbers and resisted with all their force. It took a long time to coax them onto the barge, and once they were aboard, they continued to be restive. All Guy’s talent and all his time were required to keep them quiet.

  The ladies were equally nervous. The barge seemed very small and the water exceedingly rough. The craft pitched and dipped till they were quite sure they were all going to end up in the cold sea. The wind carried balls of foam, which flew against their gowns and faces and destroyed their coiffures.

  “Why don’t you get into the carriage? You’ll be more comfortable,” Guy suggested.

  “If we are going to drown, I prefer not to do it locked up in a carriage,” Faith said grimly.

  “The fresh air is all that is keeping that beefsteak where it belongs” was Lady Lynne’s reply. A glance at her yellowing face told Delamar this was true. Knowing that ladies disliked casting u
p their accounts in front of a gentleman, he returned to the horses and left them alone.

  As soon as the second crossing was accomplished, the ladies retired to their carriage and the trip continued. They were drawing close to their destination now. Thomas might be seen at any moment, and from both carriages eager eyes scanned the road for him. As they proceeded westward, they entered New Forest, the royal hunting ground set apart by William the Conqueror to hunt the tall deer.

  Had their trip been less harrowing, they would have enjoyed the view of ancient oaks, yews, and holly bushes that distinguished the forest. The scenery was varied by heath and even farmland, for the forest was not a real forest. But Lady Lynne was by no means recovered from the crossing. She felt chilled to the marrow by her damp clothes and sat with eyes closed, moaning occasionally.

  When they drew near to Bournemouth, the rising ground, rich in pines, gave them a view of the city below nestled at the mouth of the little Bourne River at Poole Bay. The cliff line was interrupted by chines that split the rock open as it fell straight to the sea below. Bournemouth was coming into popularity as a watering place for invalids, who appreciated its garden setting and scenic beauty.

  At their descent into the city, nerves drew taut. Already hotels were springing up along Holdenhurst Road. Where Holdenhurst Road becomes Bath Road, Delamar had his carriage stopped and came back to speak to the ladies. The Lansdowne Hotel was on their right, another on their left.

  “If I read Lord Thomas aright,” he said, “he’ll be staying at one of the better establishments. Perhaps the Royal Bath—it’s the only hotel on the East Cliff that has a view of the sea at any rate. I suggest you ladies go there to recover,” he said as he noticed that Lady Lynne was still distressed.

  Faith was loath to speak to him, but she was on thorns to learn his plans. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to check in and have lunch.”

  Lady Lynne got her eyes open long enough to give approval to this destination, and the carriages resumed motion. She noticed the Pleasure Gardens on her right and thought a walk there in the afternoon might resuscitate her. The hotel was not yet as full as it would be after the King’s Garden Party on the fourth of June, which marked the official close of the Season. There were plenty of rooms, and when the ladies were taken upstairs, they were astonished to find that Mr. Delamar had hired them two adjoining rooms. From their windows, they looked out over the East Cliff Promenade to the sea. This was not where the boats would dock; it was the bathing place.

  While Faith stood gazing at the vast expanse of water, all gray and shiny like crumpled steel, she heard a knock on her aunt’s door. The voice that wafted through to her belonged to Mr. Delamar, which caused her spine to stiffen and her feet to remain frozen to the floor. She was sure she’d be called, and when this didn’t happen, she was so incensed she refused to acknowledge knowing that he was there.

  “Do you feel up to tackling lunch?” Guy asked the dame.

  “Perhaps toast and tea, sent up here. I’m for a lie-down.”

  “What about Faith?” he asked hopefully. She noticed the reluctant interest, and her hopes in that direction revived like magic. With careful handling, she might land him for her niece yet. The stupid chit must be given time to cool down, however.

  “She’s feeling less peaky. We’ll have a regular lunch sent up for her.”

  “There are private parlors to be had if you think she’d like to get out and stretch her legs,” he tempted.

  Such blandishments were easily resisted when it was the niece’s company he was after. “No, she’ll want to remain with me. I suppose you’ve inquired after Thomas?”

  “He isn’t here. I’ve tried for him by name and by description, and they haven’t seen him. There are dozens of other hotels and inns here; he’s probably at one closer to the dock. Bournemouth is becoming a bit fashionable. He’d keep a low profile. I have recruited a few helpers to check out other inns, but if all else fails, I’ll catch him when he tries to board ship tonight. I’d prefer to get the thing done before dark, if possible. Darkness offers too many chances of a slipup.”

  “He wouldn’t stay at an inn at all if he’s wise. Why should he when he has a friend living not two miles away?”

  “What!” It was a howl of protest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is this friend? Where does he live?”

  Well experienced in deception, she looked only mildly surprised as she said, “Young Stokely lives just north of here, between Bournemouth and Lymington. You know Everett Stokely.”

  “No, but I’ll find him.”

  “What helpers have you hired?”

  He gave a mocking grin. “I shan’t tell you. Your niece wouldn’t approve.”

  “Millie?” she asked. He didn’t answer, but not denying it was answer enough. “A wise move! Thomas wouldn’t want to be without a woman for long.”

  His grin faded, and a frown creased his brow. When he spoke, he lowered his voice. “How could you let her marry a man like that?”

  Faith heard the softer sounds and drew nearer to the door to eavesdrop.

  “Lud, you sound as though partis grew on trees. The more eligible ones are impossible to nab. They’re spoken for from the cradle. So many of the second sons are marrying untitled fortunes that it makes hard foraging for gels like Faith who are expected to marry a title but haven’t much to barter with.”

  “The solution seems obvious. They should marry untitled fortunes as well.”

  He tried to sound casual, but she didn’t misread the alert set of his shoulders. To throw a rub in his way and increase his ardor, she said, “It’s not so easy as that.”

  “I know a commoner doesn’t automatically assume his lady’s title, but . . .”

  She bridled up to hear him outline the lack of advantage to himself in this merger. “He makes excellent connections though. What I meant was that the Mordains have never married mere gentility. Lady Faith would be the last woman in the world to take a social step downwards.”

  “I see.” Something in his face froze. She felt as if a door had been closed right while she stood talking to him. “She knows what is important to her, of course. If she feels the necessity of mingling more blue blood with hers, then of course my suggestion is ineligible.”

  They both fell silent. Faith’s patience broke, and she walked into the room to learn what was being discussed. Guy lifted his eyes and stared at her. She had never seen such a malevolent gaze. His nostrils were pinched and his lips were drawn into a thin line, but it was his glittering topaz stare that froze her.

  “What are you talking about?” Faith demanded.

  “About catching Thomas, of course. That’s why we’re here,” Guy reminded her. Her own icy glare froze the blood in his veins. How could a woman be such a fool?

  Lady Lynne looked from one to the other and decided it was time to give Mr. Delamar a little encouragement. “I really am astonished that Thomas should be so daring and innovative as to have arranged this business,” she said. This would give Guy a chance to outline his superior innovation.

  He failed her entirely. “It isn’t his lack of morals that astonishes you?” he asked.

  “That goes without saying,” Faith rushed in. Guy’s slow, mocking grin greeted her words. “That he is innocent, I mean!” she exclaimed angrily.

  “You certainly won’t hear me say anything of the sort,” he gibed. “I’ll leave you ladies now. I have a million things to do. I’ll send a waiter up for your order.”

  He left, and Faith flounced back to her room, then flounced back again to her aunt. “Are we just going to sit here while he goes and arrests Thomas?”

  “Of course not, ninnyhammer!” The last trace of distress faded from Lady Lynne’s face, to be replaced by a lively smile. “We are going to search the hotels and inns and find Thomas, while Guy wastes his time out chasing mares nests.” She quickly outlined her maneuver.

  It sounded possible of success to Faith, and sh
e went along with it. Of course her aunt had to have a snack before leaving the inn, which wasted nearly an hour. It gave Faith time to consider what she was about to do. Was it morally right to help a criminal escape justice? She knew perfectly well it was not but rationalized that she’d urge Thomas to return all the money. Then it would be all right.

  She sat jiggling with impatience while her aunt stolidly ate her way through not only the toast and tea but also a couple of coddled eggs. “Now can we go?” she asked as the last bit of yolk disappeared.

  “Do you know, I am feeling a trifle queasy,” was Lady Lynne’s answer. “Really, I am not feeling at all well,” she added. One had only to look at her to see that it was true. She looked like a dying camel. She had turned very pale, and her eyes looked rheumy.

  “Then I’ll go alone,” Faith said. “With the groom, I mean.”

  Much as her chaperone wished to accompany her, it was impossible. She straggled to her bed and lay down. “Oh, very well. Run along then, but be careful, Faith,” she said in a weak voice. Then she pulled the counterpane over her and closed her eyes.

  Faith got her bonnet and pelisse and darted downstairs. While she was waiting for the carriage, she saw Delamar enter the lobby. He looked ready for treason. He couldn’t be back from the wild-goose chase so soon! But she knew he was, and he knew as well that it had been a hoax. She stood silent, hidden by a potted palm, and watched to see where he went next. He pulled out his watch, glanced at it, then looked around the lobby, obviously expecting to meet someone. Her first fear was that he had laid a plan to ambush Thomas. She watched, her heart in her throat.

  In less than two minutes, Guy spotted his quarry and hurried forward. Faith followed him with her eyes and saw not Thomas but Millie, the lightskirt from Fareham. When Guy put out his hand and took Millie by the elbow, some uncontrollable demon entered Faith’s soul. She strode forward from behind the concealing palm and accosted him. The angry glow in his eyes incited her to further madness.