Thank goodness she’d nodded. ‘That is so fast, Harry. I hadn’t thought the information would be broadcast so soon.’
‘Damage limitation. Your papa will have received my letter to him, and know the betrothal notice should be in The Times tomorrow morning. Someone, it seems, spilled the news. Your papa was going to tell my dear heir once it was published so as to spike his guns, so to speak. I wonder if my message from Williams has anything to do with it? Ah well, we can discover that tomorrow.’
She grinned. ‘Can we go by ferry? I hardly ever get the chance and I do love it so.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Especially when it is almost high tide. The water rushes by and the boat fights to stay on course. Plus you get a much longer ride for your money.’
How could he resist her pleading look? After all, to go by road was a lengthy drive.
There was only one answer to that – he couldn’t.
****
The water rushed under the hull of the ferry, with its painted portholes designed to make it look like there were cannons on board, a remnant from the war, and twisted and turned as it made its way to the nearby town. The route it took satisfied Lydia’s desire for a longer passage. Squeals of delight echoed around as she laughed and held on for dear life as the boat bucked the current and the rowers fought to keep it on track and land them safely. As one told Lydia gruffly as he helped her alight, theirs was the last trip until the tide had changed. On such strong tides it wasn’t considered safe to make the crossing for a couple of hours either side of high water.
‘We were lucky then,’ Lydia remarked as she took Harry’s arm and they made their way towards the docks and Williams’s office. ‘I assume it will be a hackney home?’ She stopped dead. ‘Oh my, would one go so far? Perhaps we best hang around until the next ferry?’
‘I ordered my carriage to be brought around. Jem was beside himself at being trusted with my greys and stabling them yesterday.’ Harry urged her on with a pat to her bottom. ‘He has a good hand. I thought we could stop for a cream tea on the way. Mrs T recommended a farm to me around halfway home,’ he winked. ‘We can take our time and not be rushed.’
Did his hand linger a second longer than it should? She hoped so, although how did you know such things? Lydia wished, not for the first time, that Esther was around to quiz. Even through her fashionable walking dress his touch seared her skin and made her incredibly hot and bothered. How did you ask for more?’
You didn’t – not yet anyway, she decided, and asked about something else that had been on her mind. She matched her steps to Harry’s and noted how he had shortened his stride in deference to her.
‘How did you choose Williams to be your agent down here?’
‘Primarily for the waterborne trade, and his job as harbourmaster, but also I realised how competent he was.’ He raised one shoulder elegantly. ‘Merryworth, my previous agent, was out of his depth and we both agreed it was better he went elsewhere. I put in a good word for him. Williams is the perfect man for the job. Now I use him for all sorts of things my solicitor would not be happy doing. This is very recent, just since I arrived in the area, but so far so good. Jem vouches for him so that is a plus. Or,’ Harry added mendaciously, ‘he does now. Why, I have no idea, but I trust his judgement.’
Lydia nodded. ‘I do also, and Mrs Troup’s, and the Orsmans’. They have all been so helpful. Oh, look.’ They turned into a side street and bypassed three seagulls squabbling over a fish head, and a couple of urchins playing with stones in the gutter. ‘I used to love that as a child,’ Lydia said with a gurgle. ‘We called it alleygobs. I wasn’t too bad at it either.’
‘Ah, it was five stones or jacks for me.’ Harry stopped, bent down onto his haunches, and turned to one of the children who he reckoned were in their early teens. Why weren’t they at school? ‘May we play?’
The child dropped his stones and stared at Harry, his grimy face full of bemusement and his mouth open. ‘You know ‘ow?’
‘I do,’ he said gravely. ‘So does the lady.’
‘The liddy does?’ The lad sounded doubtful.
‘Oh yes.’ Lydia bent down and picked up the stones. ‘Now, let me see, we don’t have time to go through it all by rote, but a small try maybe?’ She looked at Harry who nodded.me
‘Over to you, my dear.’
‘Ah good.’ She tossed them from hand to hand, made sure she knew where the bigger stone – the jack – sat, and threw them in the air, unheeding of the dirt that transferred to her white, lacy glove, twisting her hand over and catching all five on the back on her hand. ‘Now, let me see. I’m not sure what words you would say but we said five up and two to go. Jack high, middle.’ She flicked her wrist. All five stones flew into the air and she caught three, including the jack, slap bang in the middle of the back of her hand and let the other two fall.
‘Cor.’ The younger of her audience of three clapped his hands. ‘What else, miss?’
She laughed. ‘Now comes the really tricky bit. Three to stay and two to come, jack low.’ Another flick and she grabbed the two stones from the floor and straightened her hand so the other three were on the back before they fell to the ground, with the jack in their centre once more. ‘And to finish, all five to grab.’
She did that as well as all five stones flew upwards to be grabbed in her fingers. Both children stared at her wide-eyed as she opened her hand to show the stones nestled there. Both of them jumped up and cheered. Lydia stood and curtsied. It had been a fun interlude and she was pleased she hadn’t disgraced herself. With a laugh she dusted her hands together and looked at her gloves ruefully. They’d never be the same again and she couldn’t care less. Sometimes it was good to do something silly and this was one of them.
‘Thank you, kind sirs.’ She addressed the urchins, not Harry, sure he’d understand why. ‘I enjoyed that.’
‘So did I and, no, I’m not even going to try and emulate your success,’ Harry said dryly. ‘ Thank you for the loan of your… what do you call them?’
‘I calls ‘em chuckies or chucky stones,’ the eldest said. ‘Fred here does an’ all.’
Fred nodded shyly. ‘Bert’s better’n me, though.’
‘He is older,’ Harry said emphatically. ‘So he’s had longer to practise.’
‘Arh, he’s me big brother an’ all.’
‘So he can teach you all he knows.’ It was exactly the correct thing to say, Lydia decided, as the envy faded from Fred’s expression to be replaced by one of thoughtfulness.
‘As a small way of thanking you both for allowing us to be part of your game.’ Harry handed some coins to the children, whose eyes widened and they both gasped.
‘Cor, thank ‘ee, sir. You want the stones?’ Fred held them out.
As they were exactly the right size for the game and shiny with use, Harry shook his head. ‘Part of the fun is hunting for the exact right stones,’ he said with a fine disregard for grammar. I’m going to enjoy doing that at low tide.’
‘Ah, t’other side over by the Ness is best,’ Bert said sagely. ‘You’ll find some right ‘uns there.’
‘I’ll look forward to it and perhaps if we meet again it will be my turn to win?’ Harry said humorously. As an aside, what does your er dad do?’
‘He’s a fisherman and Ma does sewing. Dad’s boat’s the Mary Ellen after me ma. Best mackerel this side of Exmouth, me dad says.’
‘I love mackerel. I’ll get my secretary to call on him. Does he have a hut?’
Bert nodded. ‘Course. Third from far end. Blue ‘n’ yeller like the boat. Best make it late on, like, when he’s back with the catch.’
Harry nodded. ‘Good. Mr Troup will call on him tomorrow. I would be there myself, but sadly I will be otherwise engaged.’
‘Coo er. Yes, mister, me dad ‘ll be over ‘t moon.’
‘Excellent. Now don’t forget we’ll have a rematch soon.’
‘Ar and we’ll gives you a good run.’ Bert looked up with hero worship in his eyes. ‘And
yer knows if you nee owt doing, we’s ‘ere most days. Just ask anyone for Bert or Fred Pickles.’
Harry bowed. ‘Thank you. We’ll be sure to remember that.’ He fished in a pocket and handed them a card each, even though Lydia was sure he knew neither would be able to read it.
‘Harry Birnham, at your service.’
‘A nob?’ Fred blurted out as he stared at the oblong card. ‘You got a title. Sir?’
‘A man who thanks you for your kindness,’ Harry said gently. ‘Who wonders why you aren’t at school?
‘Olidy, today ‘n’ tomorrer. And, well, we’s getting too old for it they say.’
‘Ah right. Now remember, If I can ever repay the compliment, Mr Williams at the docks will find me.’ He doffed his hat and took Lydia’s arm once more. ‘Now we best get on or our appointment will think we have forgotten him.’
He bowed again and both boys did their best to emulate him.
‘He’s a lord,’ Lydia whispered. ‘But I try not to remind him. I don’t want him to get a swollen head.’
Both boy’s eyes widened and then they grinned. ‘We’ll not tell,’ Fred said.
‘Nah,’ Bert chimed in. ‘It’s our secret, eh, miss?’
Lydia nodded, loving the exchange. ‘Indeed. Yes, I’m coming.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘See what I mean?’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘So very lord-ish.’
Harry mock-growled. ‘Shall I shake my fist or something lordly?
‘No need, I’m ready. Goodbye boys.’
Bye, miss, your, er, sir,’ they chorused.
Harry glanced over his shoulder and stood still as he stared at them thoughtfully. Then he nodded. ‘Consider yourselves on my payroll. Go to Mr Williams at the docks tomorrow and tell him I said so. Oh, and beware part of your job is to attend more school.’
‘Really? Extra learning and all?’ Bert’s eyes glowed and Fred fist-pumped the air.
‘Exactly. We’ll get that sorted as well.’
Lydia melted inside as she took his arm once more and they moved on. Behind them the whoops and shouts of ‘hey Ma’ and ‘where’s Dad’ faded as two excited children ran in the other direction.
‘You made their day,’ she remarked as they turned into the dockyard. ‘It was kind.’
‘I am kind,’ he said dryly. ‘They seemed eager to learn and were polite. And I didn’t make their day – I rather think you did. Where did you learn to play like that?’
‘Shh, don’t tell my parents, but from the stable lads. I had a very solitary childhood at times. The lads were a godsend. Not only can I muck out, take stones from a horse’s feet, and ride bareback, I can play alleygobs and shoot straight with a bow and arrow and a shotgun. I’m not quite so good with a pistol.’
‘All things a well-brought-up young lady needs to know, of course,’ Harry remarked with a grin. ‘I’m glad I tend to be on your right side now.’
‘Of course you are. Lord, my gloves are filthy.’ Lydia held her hands up for his inspection. ‘I look as if I’ve been mucking out the grate in them. Thank goodness neither my mama nor Lady Babbacombe is around. They would put me beyond the pale.’ She knew she didn’t sound overly concerned.
‘Easily solved,’ Harry said promptly. ‘Take them off.’
‘But then I’ll be improperly dressed,’ she pointed out with another grin. She’d essayed more of them that day than in the rest of the week. ‘I should have some decorum.’
‘No one will know.’
‘I will, and you will, and so, if he notices, will Mr Williams.’
‘I won’t tell if you don’t, and we’ll see if Williams can send someone to the glovemaker to get another pair while we talk to him. How’s that?’
‘Spoken like a true lord. Seriously, that sounds fair enough and, to be honest, I’m worried if I keep them on I’ll transfer the dirt from them to your coat or my dress.’
Harry turned to her, and before she had a chance to protest, drew first one and then the other glove from her hands and tucked each one in his pocket. ‘Sorted, and here we are, just in time to see Williams. Perfect.’
It wasn’t just that which was perfect. Lydia had seen a side of Harry that had made her wonder why she had refused his earlier proposals.
‘You know, I have just realised, you really do like children, don’t you? I saw you with Bert and Fred and I imagined how you will be with our children.’
‘Oh, I see,’ His eyes darkened almost to the colour of midnight and Lydia decided, fancifully, that tiny stars glistened in them as he smiled down at her. ‘Firm and fair, I hope. I assure you, from the bottom of my heart, my love, that I would love and cherish our children just as I do you.’
The look in his eyes, that tiny glint of wickedness combined with love, silenced her. Lydia preceded Harry into Mr Williams’s office in a daze. Sadly, it wasn’t to last long. Within minutes she was incensed and thought if smoke came out of her ears it would be no surprise.
Chapter Sixteen
‘He is a bloody liability!’ Harry said explosively as Mr Williams handed over a letter he’d received the day before purporting to be from Harry’s new agent, with a ‘I reckon this is our man, my lord’.
‘Most likely. One moment, this is from my associate in London.’ Jem had somehow managed to get to the office before Harry to hand over the letter marked ‘urgent’. He nodded his thanks as he opened the missive Jem had brought. Harry guessed Jem had ridden upstream to where a boat could cross at high tide and then hurried down the lane on the other side. The younger man was now sitting in a corner with a jug of ale and an apologetic expression on his face. ‘Sorry, miss, but it was marked urgent,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I thought it best I get it to Lord Birnham as soon as possible. I knew you’d not be back for a while yet so…’
‘It was for the best,’ Lydia said emphatically as Harry sat back and let her answer without any interruptions. ‘We have decided to share you,’ she said reassuringly. ‘You did the right thing. Grass can wait, treachery cannot.’
Jem looked relieved and took a long draught of his ale. ‘That’s as I thought, but well…’
‘You worried for no reason,’ Harry added emphatically. ‘And you can ride home when you are refreshed, take the horse ferry, or come with us in the carriage.’
‘I’ll ride,’ Jem said and coloured. ‘Well, I did come on Lucifer.’ He named the horse Harry had recently purchased for Jem’s use. ‘He’d got a lot left in him, and it’s good to see what he’s capable of, eh?’
‘Of course,’ Harry agreed, and watched amused as, within five minutes, Jem had taken his leave and departed. Hooves sounded loudly and then got rapidly softer as horse and rider left the docks.
Harry slit open the letter Jem had given him. It was addressed to him in Stephen’s hand; his elegant penmanship was unmistakable. ‘Let me read this and then we can get down to business. A drink, perhaps, for Lady Lydia and myself?’
‘I’ll have ale, please,’ Lydia said promptly and coloured as both men looked at her. ‘I like ale and so rarely get a chance to drink it.’
‘Ales all round, please, Williams, if you can. And remind me to tell you about my new employees. A certain Fred and Bert – damn, I forget their surname.’
Williams drew three foaming mugs of ale from an overlarge jug on a side table. ‘Pickles, my lord? Dad’s a fisherman. Bert senior?’
‘That would be it, thank you. They are to continue to go to school and learn to help you or whatever they excel in when they are older. For now they learn to be children. My secretary or I will speak to their father tomorrow when the boat’s in. The family must not suffer over it.’
‘I do know their dad wants them to learn their letters and sums. I see him in the Red Lion. It’s a hardworking family, and those two youngsters are willing and able, even for being so young.’
‘Good.’ Harry nodded his satisfaction. The two young boys had got to him somehow and he intended to help them and their family however he could. ‘Right now, let me see.’ He be
gan to read rapidly. Several sheets of paper were covered in Stephen’s script. After he’d read each sheet he handed it to Lydia who, at a nod from him, read it and passed it on to Williams.
‘Hmm,’ Harry said finally as he read the signature, sat back in his chair, and took a satisfying drink of ale. ‘So now we know. As I suspected, my not so beloved heir is behind all of this.’
‘The mysterious Mr Gentry?’ Lydia asked. ‘Who picks up the mail addressed to Jeremy with a letter saying he is the agent for Jeremy? You really think that is Jeremy himself?’
‘I can’t see it being anyone else,’ Harry replied thoughtfully. The description from the tobacconist whose address is used as a poste restante fits Jeremy perfectly.’
‘Well, I always knew he was a snake,’ Lydia said indignantly, ‘but if that doesn’t beat all. I knew there was a reason to hate snakes. What can we do to him? I do know,’ she added in a droll voice, ‘there is no point in just cutting his head off. Doesn’t that mean he can just slither away? We need to cut him off in his…’ Harry coughed and she broke off mid-sentence. ‘Yes, well, I know it’s not the done thing to kill your heir but at least you could bring him to his knees?’
‘If it is indeed him,’ Harry pointed out. ‘No, love, don’t rip up at me. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?’
‘Pah.’ Lydia narrowed her eyes. ‘He’s as guilty as… as, well, whatever. I bet you a guinea.’
‘Perhaps I might add,’ Williams said diffidently, ‘this letter I asked you to come here about seems to add to that theory. It is from your new agent, my lord. Or your purported new agent, I should say.’
‘Don’t tell me. Mr Gentry, I presume?’
Lydia let out a crow of laughter. ‘Told you. I bet you’re glad you didn’t take me up on my wager.’
Harry looked at her and shook his head in mock sorrow. ‘Heaven help me, I’m betrothed to a gloater.’
‘Oh yes, and bloodthirsty when need be.’
‘I won’t forget. Sorry, Williams, you were saying?’ Harry turned back to the agent who looked as if he’d enjoyed the repartee.
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 24
